


The Extrasensory Series

by EmilyFairy



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Epic, Extrasensory Series, Fantasy, First Time, M/M, Post Whose Line Is It Anyway?, Pre-Whose line Is It Anyway?, Romance, Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyFairy/pseuds/EmilyFairy
Summary: Ryan and Colin are star-crossed lovers with a telepathic bond in this epic tale of love, dreams, and redemption. Follow them through their lifelong journey towards what they've been searching for all along: each other.[ Read this classic series, which willfinallybe completed! :) ]





	1. A Place in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story in The Extrasensory Series, first written in 2006. It was never originally completed, but I'm aiming to do so at long last. :) This series will follow Colin and Ryan throughout their lives. My own little _Whose Line_ universe, if you will. :) Things aren't exactly 100% factually accurate, but that's why it's fiction. *grin*
> 
> I'm going to post it as a chaptered work just so I'm not clogging up the page with a bunch of individual stories, but it's actually a series of connected short stories, so keep that in mind when you're reading it. It's not going to be a linear, traditional story with a unified POV. But that's part of the fun. :D
> 
> This first story is PG rated, but there are a few higher rated stories (Emily's dreaded sex scenes, OMG! :P ) mixed in. Oh, and it's a Colin POV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin finally finds his one true passion in life, and the place where he belongs.

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
A Place in the Sun 

"'Cause there's a place in the sun  
Where there's hope for everyone  
Where my poor restless heart's gotta run  
There's a place in the sun  
And before my life is done  
Got to find me a place in the sun..."

\--"A Place in the Sun," Stevie Wonder, 1966.

***

My parents were going to kill me. I hadn't told them yet about my plans for dropping out of university. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work. It was more like I felt all alone, even when I was surrounded by people on campus.

Don't get me wrong. I'm kind of used to being alone. My family moved around a lot when I was younger. First we lived in Scotland, and then we moved to Canada when I was seven years old. We lived in Montreal until Dad got transferred briefly down to Los Angeles. But Mom didn't like all of the smog and heat and crowds, so we moved back up to Vancouver the year that I turned twelve. And that's where we've been ever since. 

It wasn't easy on me, moving around so much. I never really felt like I belonged. Every time I moved somewhere new, it became just a little bit harder to start again. I felt like, why bother? I'm just going to end up moving somewhere else anyway. And everyone already had their own friends, their own lives... they didn't even notice I was there, and when they did I was so tongue-tied I couldn't think of anything to say and wound up looking even stupider. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did. 

By the time I hit high school, I was a confirmed loner. I liked to hole up in my room on the weekends, reading science fiction novels. I must have read hundreds of them between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, all the plots running together into one giant mixture of laser beams and aliens and scantily clad women. My little sister Katie would bring all her friends around, and they'd burst into my room and pile up on my bed, surrounding me with girly giggles and asking me stupid questions. That was about the extent of my social life, with the exception of my excursions to the local burger joint with my little brother Steve. 

My sophomore year my mom came to me and told me that I needed to start thinking about having some extracurricular activities, so I'd look good when it came time for me to apply for university. I didn't want to hear it, because my grades were excellent and everyone said I was on track to become valedictorian of my class. "Won't my grades be enough?" I remember asking her.

"It's not only that," she said to me in her slight Scottish accent, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye to gauge my reaction. "Your father and I... we're worried about you, Colin. You spend so much time alone. We thought it would be good for you to join some activities, maybe make some new friends." 

I sighed and hung my head, feeling tears pushing painfully into my eyes. So that's what this was really about. I should have known. "I know," I said, gripping the corner of my bedspread. I hated acknowledging my personal failure, hated to think of how my family saw me. Did they think of me as just a pathetic loser? 

Mom put a hand on my shoulder and I curled into her like I used to when I was small. She patted me and even though I felt stupid, relying on her touch so much at my age, I couldn't pull away. "I asked the school to send us a list of all of the clubs at school. I thought maybe you could take a look at it and see if anything caught your interest." 

I smiled, and it came off mostly successful. "Thanks, Mom," I said as she handed me the list. 

I didn't know it then, but that single sheet of mimeographed paper would change the course of my life. 

I ran my finger down the list as my mom closed the door behind her. I realized there was a club for everything. Band Club? I thought to myself. Nah, I'd tried to play the trumpet years ago while I was in junior high, and I'd ended up trying to throw it out because I was so frustrated with it. Too bad my dad wouldn't let me. Besides, cleaning out that spit valve was just nasty. 

Math Club, maybe? I liked Math well enough, but Math Club sounded kinda geeky. I wasn't _that_ desperate for friends. 

Art Club was out, since I'd never advanced past stick figures.

French Club? I'd had enough of French when we lived in Montreal. 

The Future Mechanics Club didn't even apply to me, and the Glee Club would have been great, if my voice would actually cooperate. 

The Environmental Awareness Club practically screamed unwashed hippie, and I wasn't even going to touch the Chess Club.

Things were looking pretty grim, when my thumb landed on Drama Club. I almost passed it over, almost dismissed it as a lightweight hangout for a bunch of hyperactive freaks, but then I remembered the school play in grade 7, how I had loved having a supporting role... how being on stage, pretending to be someone else energized me in some way that I couldn't explain. It was like I could forget, for a little while anyway, that I was just boring old Colin Mochrie. On stage I was somebody. I was important. On stage, everybody had a role, a place where they fit. 

"Drama Club," I mused aloud, tapping my chin. 

Well, like I said, Drama Club changed my life. I signed up for the winter play, a production of _Jesus Christ, Superstar_. Even though my singing wasn't the best, I managed to land the role of King Herod. I played up to the crowd during my big musical number, thoroughly enjoying making them laugh, but even better than that I liked having friends. I ended up participating in every play from then on, even landing the lead role a few times. They never let me have the lead in a musical, but I could understand that. Like I said, singing was never exactly a strong point of mine. 

I knew that I had talent. Everybody said so. They even voted me Class Actor and Class Clown when I was a senior. How could I turn my back on it? My parents wanted me to go to university, get a degree, get a good job, basically follow the life script. I could have done it, sure. I had ended up as Valedictorian after all, and I felt like my life was laid out at my feet already. All I had to do was connect the dots. 

But I didn't want to connect dots. I didn't want to drift through life, however comfortable and easy that life would be. I wanted to act. Sure, there was a theatre program at the university, but I didn't feel any _spark_ from the other actors. They weren't serious about it, it was just something that they were doing to get an easy credit for their graduation requirements.

I was twenty when I first heard about the theatre school a few miles away from the university. I couldn't get on the bus fast enough. And when I stepped into that first crumbling building, with the hallways covered in multicolored posters and flyers advertising shows and classes and auditions, I somehow knew that I was home. 

I spent a long time just going up and down the hallway, gazing at the wall of paper with something that resembled awe. Theatre Sports, I remember reading over and over while my smile got wider and wider. I had taken a Theatre Sports class at university this past fall, and loved it. The section on Improvisation had been my favorite part. And here there were entire classes devoted to Improv and other Theatre Sports. 

"Hi," I said to the girl at the desk, a pretty girl with tortoiseshell glasses and overalls. "I'm Colin Mochrie, and I was wondering if I could have some information on your Improv classes." 

She smiled, and handed me a booklet after rooting around for a moment. "All of our classes are listed in here, including Improv. Just make sure you hurry and sign up if you're interested, 'cause space is limited, and the classes for Spring Semester are filling up fast."

"Thanks," I said, escaping with my prize clutched to my chest. As I made my way back through the amazing technicolor hall of drama, a tall gawky boy with long hair that curled to his shoulders caught my eye. He was blinking at all of the flyers too, and it made me wonder if I had looked the same way just a few minutes ago.

_Holy shit! They've got Improv here!_ I heard a deep voice say in my head. It didn't sound like my own inner voice. It made me feel wistful and excited and boyish all at once. 

I looked at the boy again, wondering if he had spoken, but his mouth hadn't moved. _Huh?_ I thought to myself. _Weird._

He stiffened and looked back at me ( _Hello?_ ), but I hurried past him, feeling a little afraid. Our shoulders bumped as I passed, and he said, "Watch it!" 

At least, I _think_ he said it. I heard it, anyway. 

I wasn't sure what freaked me out more... that boy, or telling my parents about my plans to leave university and enroll in theatre school this spring. 

_Ryan_ , I heard faintly in my head as I rushed to the bus stop, almost slipping on a patch of ice. _I'm Ryan._

_Colin_ , I thought, feeling ridiculous. I hadn't read a science fiction novel in years, but now I was wondering if perhaps I was living in one. My face heated up as I boarded the bus, and the feeling faded behind me once we got rolling. Whatever it was, it was gone.

I gladly left it behind, and I hoped that it wouldn't come back.


	2. Everybody's Looking for Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan loves being a stand-up comedian, but at the same time he's looking for something more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second story in The Extrasensory Series. This time it's a Ryan POV. The rating is PG-13.

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
Everybody's Looking for Something 

"Sweet dreams are made of this  
Who am I to disagree?  
Travel the world and the seven seas  
Everybody's looking for something..."

\--"Sweet Dreams", The Eurythmics, 1983.

***

I always dreamed big. Hell, I _was_ big. I was always the tallest, skinniest boy in my class, from first grade right up until... well, I can't say graduation 'cause I didn't exactly graduate. Instead, I dropped out of school for my first love: stand-up.

I loved being out in front of a crowd, feeling their collective energy coursing through me. Once I mentioned how I could sense emotions sometimes to my friend Mike, and he acted like I was a freak. So I didn't tell anyone after that. But they were still there. I'd be waiting in the bar for my act to be called, cruising along, and then this wave of sadness or anger or even joy would rush over me. I never heard words in my head, or anything specific like that, but I was actually grateful 'cause I couldn't imagine hearing someone's thoughts. It would be too intimate, I thought. Maybe even more intimate than sex. 

"Man, Ryan, it's like magic," Mike said to me one night after watching me weave my spell with the crowd. "How do you always manage to turn things around like that? You never bomb!" His eyes flickered enviously over me.

I shrugged and prayed that he hadn't remembered our previous conversation about my dubious abilities. We had been pretty high that night, which was basically the only reason I even told him. "Just lucky I guess," I muttered into my mug of beer.

"In more ways than one," Mike said, jerking his head towards the woman approaching us. 

She was tall, wearing a red dress, and looked like she was at least twenty-five. A seductive smile played across her lips as she poured herself onto the seat beside me. "Buy me a drink?" she asked, drumming her fake crimson fingernails on the edge of the bar as she stared into my eyes.

I gulped and nodded, while Mike clapped me on the shoulder and walked off with one single backwards grin. The woman in front of me began tracing my legs with her nails, and suddenly I couldn't think anymore. I just wanted to fuck her, and as her fingers moved closer to my cock I thought that she would let me. 

Ever since I started doing stand-up six months ago, I've had nine different women. It's... unreal. Sometimes I picked them up, sometimes they picked me up, but it was never anything serious. Just a bunch of one night stands. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, as the saying goes. 

I wasn't complaining exactly... hell, I was eighteen years old, in my prime red-blooded male years, and I liked feeling like a superstud. But at the same time, it all felt compulsory, like I was just going through the motions after a while. Insert Tab A into Slot B. It was physical, but it wasn't emotional. There was nothing behind it.

Didn't mean I was going to turn her down though. 

Mike told me about this little place a few miles away that taught acting classes. Mike was a total drama geek, always going on and on about this thing called Improv. I didn't think it sounded so great at first. Making everything off the top of your head sounded like a recipe for disaster to me.

"Nah," Mike said. "It's easy once you get the hang of it. If you take a few classes, they'll teach you the basic formula, all the tricks." 

"Shell out my hard earned money for some fruity class? I don't think so," I said. 

"Will you at least come to one of my Improv nights?" he asked. "I think you'll really like it. Please?"

Somehow when Mike begged me to do something, I could never say no. "Fine," I agreed. "Just to get you off my back, I will go to your Improv... thingie." I was so eloquent at two o'clock in the morning. 

He grinned and gave me a little hug. "Great!" he said. "Come down to the club tomorrow night at six."

"Six?" I groaned. With my schedule, six o'clock was practically the buttcrack of dawn. 

"It won't kill you to be up before the sun sets," Mike teased, getting up from the couch. "Unless you're a vampire or something."

I stood up and hunched over him, draping myself with an afghan to make an impromptu Dracula cape. "I vant to suck your blood," I intoned through fanged teeth, my hands bent into claws as I slouched towards him.

"See?" Mike said. "That's why you'd be good at Improv."

 _Improv_ , I thought to myself as he closed the door to my tiny apartment. When would Mike ever give up? But I knew the answer to that.

So I went to his damn Improv Night at the club. I remember being spellbound. It was so dynamic, with performers moving everywhere on stage, filling it with their presence. Unlike stand-up, where you just stood in one spot and talked at the audience, pumping out the jokes with the spotlight glaring into your eyes. 

And even more amazing was the audience's reaction to Improv. They actually got to participate, yelling out suggestions. And the laughs the Improv team got were bigger and purer somehow than anything I'd ever gotten, even on my best days. 

It was then that I found my second love. 

After the show, Mike introduced me to all of his friends. I tried to be casual when I asked him about that place that had the acting classes, but he gave me a knowing look. I guessed it didn't matter, because I wanted to be part of this Improv thing and I didn't care what he thought. I had officially caught the bug. 

The next day I hopped a bus over to the acting school. Mike said that he couldn't remember if they actually had Improv classes there, but it wouldn't hurt to go check it out anyway. I remember walking up the path to the front door, and being overwhelmed by walls of colored paper as far as the eye could see. Flyers and posters advertising shows, classes, auditions... It was all there, laid out for someone patient enough to dig out the needed information.

I spent a few minutes with my mouth hanging open, just making my way down the hall. It was then I saw it. A list of Improv classes, printed on bright yellow paper. I grinned in spite of myself, tracing the letters on the paper. 

A guy around my age, who looked like Mr. Joe College himself, began to walk back down the hall. I'd noticed him up at the desk, talking to the girl there. He had a booklet clutched in his arms, like he didn't want to ever let it go. 

_Improv_ , I thought to myself again, practically drooling as I turned back to my flyer. I was so glad that they had it here. It was kind of pathetic, really, how much it meant to me after such a short time. I mean, only two days ago I'd been making fun of it, and now here I was, rejoicing in my mind over Improv, of all things. 

_Huh?_ I heard through static in my head. _Who...?_ It was an incomplete thought, something I couldn't quite catch. But it was coming from the guy. It had to be, since he was the only one here. 

I turned my head to study him a bit more closely. His eyes were brown, like Mike's but twinkly-crinkled, and the corners of his mouth tilted into a permanent smile. Although at the moment the smile looked a little strained. Brown hair flopped over his forehead and fell into his eyes.

 _Hello?_ I returned, wondering what the hell was going on. 

He brushed past me, and I felt electric confusion pricking through my body. I told him to watch where he was going, but I couldn't tell you if I said it out loud or if it was all in my head.

And then he was out the door so quickly that I hadn't even had time to tell him my name. This seemed wrong to me somehow. _Ryan_ , I thought in his direction, wondering if he would respond. I felt the crunch of ice underneath my feet, even though I was inside. _I'm Ryan._

 _Colin_ , he sent back from a distance. It felt fuzzy, like a radio station that was starting to go out of range. And then he was gone. 

"Colin," I mused aloud, turning to stare at the door. I wondered if I would see him again.


	3. Mike Nelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can you go from hating someone to loving them in such a short span of time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third story in The Extrasensory Series. Sorry this is kind of off to a slow start... I'm just trying to get everything set up. If you're looking for a quickie sex story, you're not gonna find it here. There is sex, damn good sex if I do say so myself *grin* but still, this one's gonna be long and drawn out. I've got like 25 years to cover, after all. :) But the payoff will be sweeter, if you'll stick with me. 
> 
> This is another Colin POV, based on comments that Ryan and Colin met through a mutual friend. :) And the rating is PG again.

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
Mike Nelson 

Mike Nelson was a total tool. He sat in the front of our first Improv class, as close as he could get to the stage, completely kissing up to the instructor, a cool older lady named Sheryl.

Mike Nelson never said anything that didn't come off completely condescending and full of it. Even when he stood up and introduced himself as Mike Nelson, his chest puffed out and I wanted to punch him. I wasn't a violent person at all, but I felt it just the same as he smiled smarmily out at the rest of us. 

Mike Nelson looked at me like I was an alien when I introduced myself quietly as Colin Mochrie, with my head ducked down. Yeah, I shuffled and I twisted my fingers but that didn't give him the right to roll his eyes and mutter speculatively to the girl standing next to him about why _some people_ were even bothering to take this class. 

Mike Nelson fumbled through his first Improv attempt while I managed to knock over everyone laughing when it was my turn. And I know it was wrong of me to gloat but I shot him a big smile as I hopped back over to my seat. He smiled back and I thought that his smile looked a little more humble, this time. 

The first time Mike Nelson worked with me, I didn't know what I was expecting but it wasn't the quick, easy flow of give and take, with both of us getting our share of surprised laughs. Even Sheryl didn't have anything 'constructive' to say about our performance. We shared a smile and I thought, maybe...

I will never forget the day that Mike Nelson sidled up next to me and told me I was good, the respect lightly audible in his voice. He clapped my shoulder and even though I knew I didn't need his approval or his validation, I couldn't help the grin that spread over my face.

Mike Nelson was different. That was the only way I could think of to describe him. I think he acted like an asshole sometimes, just to keep people away. He fooled a lot of people. Not everyone in class liked him. I wasn't sure yet if I liked him myself. 

Mike Nelson started talking to me, before and after class. He told me about some club he worked at, a few miles away. He said he did stand-up sometimes, and he was even in an Improv group. I told him I didn't even know they had Improv groups, and he laughed at me 'cause he said my eyes were lighting up like a Christmas tree.

Mike Nelson pretended not to notice my blush.

One night, Mike Nelson invited me to come see his Improv group at the club. I went and enjoyed the show, and afterwards he took me around to all his friends and told them that I was his new recruit, even though it wasn't true. And when they all played along and started hazing me in initiation I thought, maybe...

And then Mike Nelson disappeared into the crowd for a minute, leaving me alone with his friends. Normally that made me nervous, because I had a hard time warming up to strangers, but they were all so nice and welcoming that for once I didn't mind.

Just before Mike Nelson returned, I felt my skin prickling like it sometimes does before I start performing. He came back tugging a tall, golden boy behind him, and I squinted at the boy for a moment. Where had I seen him before? I thought to myself. 

When Mike Nelson introduced him as Ryan, I remembered a rainbow of paper and a crackle of ice and a deep voice in my head saying _Ryan, I'm Ryan_. It was the boy from months ago, the one who'd scared me and intrigued me all at the same time. 

Mike Nelson didn't notice us both freeze and stumble over words that seemed inadequate. 

Mike Nelson pushed between us and bragged about how he just knew that we would get along. Ordinarily, I would have wanted to kill him for being so full of himself, but tonight I could only stare at the boy, at Ryan. He was tall, a good three or four inches taller than me even, and he had green eyes that shone with good humor. 

Mike Nelson's words faded away behind me meaninglessly as I heard a tentative _Hi?_ in my head, accompanied by a shy smile shared between just the two of us over Mike's head, and I again thought, maybe... 

At that moment I loved Mike Nelson.


	4. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin wants to stay inside and do laundry, but Ryan other plans. And Ryan has a way of always getting what he wants...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourth story in The Extrasensory Series. Now we're starting to get somewhere. This one's kinda sappy and fluffy, but I rather like it. :) Rating is PG again, 'cause I'm boring like that. Oh yeah, and it's another Colin POV. 'Cause I... like Colin best. *blush*

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
Snow Day 

The phone rings at my apartment and I shuffle towards the sound, rooting around under the pile of dirty laundry until I pull it out. "Hello?"

"Colin?" 

" _Ryan?_ " I squeak, and nearly drop the phone.

His amusement practically drips through the phone lines. "Hey," he says. "How are ya?" 

"Fine, fine! I just, um... how did you get my number?"

"Page 534, Vancouver Yellow Pages. Second column, about halfway down. Mochrie, Colin." 

I grin in spite of myself, secretly pleased that Ryan cared enough to look me up in the phone book. "Your detective skills are astounding." 

"Elementary, my dear Colin," Ryan says, in something that vaguely resembles an English accent. In my head I picture him twirling an imaginary mustache. 

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" 

For the first time Ryan's confidence stumbles. "Uh, I... what are you doing today?" 

"Laundry, I think," I groan, poking the pile in front of me. My nose wrinkles at the thought. 

"Laundry? The sun's out for the first time in over a week, and you're gonna waste the day doing laundry?" 

"Well, I didn't have any other plans, so..." 

"Meet me in front of the club in an hour." He hangs up before I can answer. 

I stare at the dead phone in my hands, shaking my head. I would have told him no. At least, that's what I tell myself. 

Really, I'm not so sure. 

***

I trudge through the snow before I finally make it to the club, wondering what I am doing here. It's too early for the club to be open. Even the workers won't be in for another couple hours. The sun is out, but the cold bites into my skin, and I bury my face into the scarf that my sister knitted me for my birthday. Ryan isn't here yet, and now I'm wishing I'd stayed home and done my laundry and continued being safe, predictable, boring old Colin.

A hand creeps onto my back and I jump. "Sorry," I hear from behind me.

I turn and Ryan is smiling at me, bright and warm in the chilly day. "Hey," I say. Looking up at Ryan, I have a feeling that I am completely out of my league here.

"Hey," Ryan returns easily. "You ready?" 

Is it then I notice he has a large sled clutched in his mittened hands. "Sledding?" I say. 

His lips move towards my ear, as if he's got a secret. I lean in, shivering when his breath warms me. "What gave it away?"

I laugh and turn to look at him. "Must've read your mind," I tease, but maybe it's the wrong thing to say because he stiffens and his expression closes up. He becomes just a teenage boy again, young and vulnerable.

"I didn't mean-- I just-- I mean, I never--" he stutters, and an ache throbs through my chest that I think is coming from him and me mixed together. "I won't do it again." 

I touch his shoulder in apology, and he looks at me, hurt and shame mixing in his eyes. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."

"But I thought it bothered you... I mean, that night, you wouldn't..." 

After Mike introduced us that night at the club, and we started talking, it was like I'd known him all my life. I know that's a completely cliche thing to say, but in this case at least, it's true. All the time I could feel him poking at my mind, trying to get me to answer him, but I wouldn't. It wasn't that I was scared... it was just because there was so much going on around us, and I knew that if I let myself go completely into Ryan, then I would be lost. 

_I wanted it to be private_ , I tell him. _Not while everyone was watching._

He beams at me, and practically drags me up the street. With his gangly body bounding beside me, and his blonde hair flopping every which way, he reminds me of my cousin's golden retriever puppy. _Later_ , I hear him think. _Later, we'll talk, or think, or whatever you want to call it. I've never met anyone like you-- like me. And I want..._

The thought fades off, but I don't mind. _Later_ , I agree. It's a promise, one I can't wait to keep.

***

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, kicking the plastic sled uncertainly. Ryan and I are both tall guys, and I'm not sure if one sled is gonna be enough for both of us. At least, not if we want to make it down the hill all in one piece. 

"Yeah, it'll be fine. I've had three guys on this thing before."

"At _once_?" 

"Yes," he says, glaring at me. "Now will you get on?" 

I hesitate, but something about the way Ryan looks up at me from his seat on the sled makes me give in. I slide behind him, feeling my cheeks heat up as I grab him around the waist. But then his hands cover mine, silently asking if I'm ready, and everything's okay again. 

We race down the hill in a blur of laughter. Bits of snow leap up and cover us in cold as we fly, and Ryan presses back against me, squeezing my hands and giggling like a little boy while the wind blows through his curls. And then we're rolling off the sled at the bottom of the hill, in a heap, and Ryan asks me, _Again?_ , and we climb up the hill and do it again, and again, and again until I can't remember which way is up, and which way is down, and in front of me Ryan's hair is coated in ice so it sparkles in the sun, and I'm laughing so much it's all like one neverending wave of Ryan and his hair and the racing sled. 

And then I collapse against the railing and I think that this time, I will say no and mean it, when Ryan pushes a cup of hot chocolate into my shivering hands. I'm so cold I can't talk, so I just look at him gratefully and take a sip. It burns my tongue but I gulp it greedily like I can't get enough, letting the heat spread through my body, coating my stomach with chocolate. He laughs and reaches over to brush off a bit of whipped cream stuck on my nose. 

Without thinking about it, I grab a handful of snow and mold it into a snowball. Ryan steps back, his own cup of hot chocolate falling from his hands, but he's too late because it's a direct hit. He purses his lips as he wipes the splattered remains off his jacket, and I have the urge to run but I stand my ground, watching his reaction. He scoops up a pile of snow at least twice as big as mine and flings it without even making a ball. The snow falls at my feet, and I raise my eyes to smirk at him. _Is that all you got?_

It's a challenge, and Ryan takes it. He steps towards me and pushes me playfully back into the snow. Then he rains pieces of snow down on me, covering my face with stings of ice. I sputter, wipe them off, and spring to my feet all at once. We chase each other through the darkening day, and while the stars poke out from their hiding places we have a massive snowball fight, complete with forts and strategy and lots of sneaking revenge. 

I'm still not sure who wins. Maybe it's him or maybe it's me or maybe it's both of us. I think in the end we just got tired. 

Ryan runs back to get his sled, which amazingly hasn't been stolen. Then we smash and kick each other's forts back to ordinary snow, erasing the evidence. I don't know why, but this makes me a little sad. 

My teeth are chattering but the concessions stand has long since closed, and Ryan says, "Want to go back to my place to warm up? It's not far from here." 

I nod, and he leads me off again. After today, I think maybe I'll follow Ryan anywhere. 

***

He smiles up at me from the puddled covers on the bed, long arms held out invitingly. _I'm not gonna bite._

I stare down at his face, hopping up and down from the cold creeping up my body like icy vines. I can't believe that I'm even here, that I've only known him for a week and he already wants to sleep together. No, not like that. I don't think so anyway. It's just to get warm, he insists.

Besides, I like girls, and he likes girls. At least, I think. 

I gulp and climb in next to him. He pulls the blanket over us and wraps his arms around me. I bury my head against him and feel warmer already. Maybe too warm, but somehow I don't want to move. _Can we talk now?_ he asks, mentally poking me.

 _Sleep_ , I think drowsily. His soft, even breathing so close to me is making me sleepy, and I can feel my toes again for the first time in hours. The pin pricking of the blood vessels opening again should be enough to keep me awake, but Ryan's soft flannel sheets, and the feel of him holding me, make me want to drift away. 

I feel the heat coming from him and from me. And maybe something else too, but I'm too out of it to identify it. He strokes my back and says, _All right, sleep. But later..._

"Later," I croak aloud, raising my head to look at him with effort. His smile is gentle and he pulls me tighter when I shiver. 

"Promise?"

 _Promise_ , I think, settling back against his chest. 

As I close my eyes I breathe in his scent, pine trees and ocean sand. I picture waves breaking at the edge of an ancient forest. And I fall asleep in his arms, dreaming of flying down a snowy hill into infinity.


	5. In the Space Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan finally finds someone who understands him in an unlikely place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fifth story in The Extrasensory Series. These stories are getting progressively trippier. LOL. I'm sorry. I'm not on anything, I swear. *grin* The next story will be more "normal". ;) 
> 
> Also, this is a Ryan POV.

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
In the Space Between 

_Ryan?_ A soft voice whispers through the darkness, coming from everywhere all at once. 

He turns his head anyway, trying to locate the source, wondering if it's God coming down in judgment. He waits for trumpets and raining skies of fire, but it is still dark and mostly silent, except for the easy rhythm of the stranger's breath coming closer. And then he senses rather than sees a pair of warm brown eyes and a flash of dimples and somehow he knows it's his friend. 

_Colin?_ he wonders, not letting himself hope too much. _Is that really you? I can't... see._

 _Yes,_ Colin answers. A hand caresses his shoulders, and Ryan leans into the touch, taking all of it. He doesn't want to be alone right now. _I'm right here._

 _Oh, thank God. I thought..._ Ryan lets the emptiness wash over him for a minute. He is in the dark, alone and scared, and no one comes. 

_Don't, Ryan. Don't say it. Please._

_Right,_ Ryan agrees. He doesn't have to say it, because Colin already knows. He looks around, then mentally slaps himself. _So, where are we anyway?_

 _I dunno,_ Colin says, and Ryan knows he is thinking, creases appearing on his forehead. I feel all floaty though, like I'm on the moon or something. 

_The moon?_ Ryan grins, picturing Colin as an astronaut tumbling through the stars, arms flailing every which way in his space suit. Beside him, Colin laughs and sends out his own image of Ryan clomping on the surface of the moon with giant moon boots. _Nah, that's impossible. The moon's not this dark. Is it?_

_This whole thing's impossible. Maybe that's the point._

_Maybe we're dreaming... Do you remember?_ Ryan feels his cheeks heat up as he thinks of Colin, asleep beside him in another world. If he concentrates he can almost feel Colin's warm body still in his arms. 

_Yes,_ Colin answers shortly, something that even Ryan can't read in his voice. 

_Did I... make you uncomfortable?_ he asks, and he's glad that Colin can't see his face right now. He hadn't meant anything by his offer. He just hated to see Colin cold, and he wanted to warm him up a bit. He thought they could lay in bed for a minute or two, with blankets and body heat, and then it would be over. He didn't know that Colin would end up asleep in his bed, curled in his embrace like a lover instead of a friend. Even though... even though...

It felt good... no, it was more than that. It felt... _right_ , Ryan thinks, and tosses the thought away before Colin sees. Come to think of it, he doesn't want to see it himself. 

_Would I still be here if I was uncomfortable?_ Colin squeezes Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan thinks that maybe he is safe. 

_No, I guess not._

_Hey, I think I see a little bit of light up ahead._

_Are you sure? 'Cause I can't-- oh, wait. I see it too!_ A tiny white point hangs in the sky somewhere ahead of them. 

_Let's try and move over that way._

_I think I'm flying..._ Colin laughs, and Ryan's heart soars with the free, easy sound echoing through the void. 

_Me too,_ he says with wonder. His body is like wind as it whirls through space, and he thinks that the light is getting bigger.

 _This is so cool!_ Colin exclaims, reaching for Ryan's hand and squeezing so they don't become separated. Ryan realizes he can see the faint outlines of Colin's smile.

They slow, then stop. The light is just bright enough for Ryan to search Colin's face. He still doesn't know where they are. _Why did we stop?_

 _I don't-- Ryan..._ Colin's thoughts trail off in awe as he points. _Look._

A comet shoots over their heads, and Ryan almost wants to grab onto the tail and keep flying. _It's beautiful,_ he murmurs, watching the brightness illuminate Colin's face for a moment. _Colin..._ he thinks, before he can help himself. 

Colin's throat moves, but he doesn't speak. Again Ryan wonders how much he knows, and he shrinks back from the light. Colin's voice appears again in his head, soft and tentative. _Why are we here? Why did we... find each other?_

The comet passes, and suddenly the world is grey light again. _I don't know... But I'm glad we did._

 _Have you always been... like this?_ Ryan finds that he loves how shy and uncertain Colin is about this whole thing. It's adorable, and he wants to reach out and ruffle Colin's hair. 

_Reading people's minds?_ he finally answers. _Nah. I mean, I've had little flashes of understanding before, knowing how people feel. But nothing like this._

 _I don't think I've ever... no, that's not true. I..._ Colin pauses, and then images fill Ryan's mind. Colin showing up at a friend's house just after he found out that his father was in a terrible car accident and might not live through the night. Colin sensing who was on the other end of the phone before picking it up. Colin knowing his mother was awake in the kitchen one night and joining her for ice cream to make her forget whatever was troubling her. A million small things, each one part of a growing pattern that Colin had missed until he met Ryan. I didn't think it meant anything. I thought everybody was like that.

 _I thought that too,_ Ryan admits. Pain fills his heart as he thinks back to his family. He's the baby, the youngest of five Stiles children. They are close, but Ryan has always been different, a freak. He hates having to hide who he is, how he feels. He remembers his father giving him long, searching looks when Ryan was barely four years old and asked him what communism was and why was everybody so angry and scared about it, because he didn't like seeing all the red panic coming from everywhere when he closed his eyes at night. He remembers isolating himself as he grew older, because he didn't want anyone to know that he was different. He thought if he pushed people away, he wouldn't have those feelings anymore. He didn't want to hurt anyone. 

Colin touches him then, startling him out of his thoughts. _I was alone too. Not because of that... mainly because I was too shy, because we always moved around and I never felt settled anywhere. I didn't even have any real friends until high school._

 _Once I learned that I could make people laugh, I used that as a way to keep them from getting too close to me,_ Ryan admits.

 _I never understood why people thought I was funny._ Colin wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, scratching his ear. _I'm not, just when I'm on stage. But on stage, it's different... it's like..._ Ryan sees a little girl playing with her doll on the floor, changing the outfit dozens of times, fingers flying over the buttons. _It's not real. But at the same time, I never feel more real than I do when I'm performing. Is that weird?_

 _Not weird at all,_ Ryan reassures him. _It's nice to be someone else for a while._

Colin nods, and Ryan feels the gratitude and relief in his smile. Their hearts buzz with the knowledge that at last someone understands. _Ryan?_

_Hmm?_

_I think we're moving again._

Ryan realizes that Colin is right, and then he slams through the air, speeding faster than starlight, and he feels like he is breaking. His atoms scatter to the four corners of space, becoming planets and black holes and red giants. And he rushes towards the light. He turns to look at Colin, alarmed to see him becoming transparent, the stars showing through his pearly skin. And then he is swallowed by the light and he is tumbling downward, falling from unimaginable heights, and he screams...

Ryan's arms tighten around Colin as he opens his eyes. In the dim early morning light, Colin's eyes gleam. "Dream," he mouths.

Ryan nods and snuggles back under the covers for a few more hours of sleep. Colin settles his head against his shoulder. _Dream._


	6. Burning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan meets Pat, but Colin is acting strange, and Ryan doesn't understand why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sixth story in The Extrasensory Series. This time it's a Ryan POV. The rating is PG-13.
> 
> This is one of my personal favorites in the series. Col and Ry's relationship deepens in this one. And Ryan meets Pat. And it's not trippy either! Bonus! :)

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
Burning Light 

"Oooh, Ryan, I think the new waitress digs you," Mike teased.

"What?" Ryan craned his neck around to stare at the girl in question. She instantly spun away from him, her head down like she was guilty. She fumbled with her order pad and her hair flopped into her eyes before she pushed it away. "Her?" 

"She's hot," said Phil, nudging Ryan. 

Mike nodded and swallowed the rest of his beer in one gulp. "She's been watching you all night, man."

"You're crazy," Ryan said. The girl was tiny and beautiful and completely out of his league. 

"She was laughing at all your jokes when you were up there. Wasn't she?" Mike looked at Phil for confirmation.

"She totally was!" 

"Well..." Ryan considered it for a minute, drumming his fingers on the table. "She does have good taste. Maybe..." 

Phil and Mike broke into raucous laughter and chanted, "Ryan, Ryan, Ryan!" in an attempt to egg him into going over there to ask her out. 

In Ryan's mind the shouts became whispers as Colin appeared at their table. His hair was rumpled and his collar was crooked, but he was still smiling, the same as always. Ryan's heart lifted at the sight of him. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "I couldn't find my wallet." 

Ryan grinned. "Maybe if you actually cleaned..."

"Oh, you're one to talk," Colin teased. He paused for a moment to stare at the still screaming Mike and Phil. "Um, what's going on?" 

"Ryan here was just about to ask out the new waitress," said Mike. 

Ryan blushed as he looked at Colin. "I wasn't!" he protested. "They wanted me to, but I never said I was going to, they just pressured me into it, and..." 

He stopped, aware of Colin's cool gaze hovering on his face. Why did he feel the need to give this big convoluted explanation to his best friend? It wasn't like Colin was... it was just ridiculous. All the same, his color darkened even more. He grabbed his beer and took a huge swallow, letting the amber liquid calm his nerves. The hot feeling slowly left his face. 

"New waitress?" Colin asked pleasantly, like someone at a cocktail party inquiring about the weather. "Looks like another notch in your belt. So, where is she?" 

"There!" Mike yelled, pointing to where the girl stood at the next table, trying to wrestle a coherant order out of a drunk old man. 

"Shh!" said Phil, and the girl's head swiveled in their direction. Everyone ducked their heads, as if that would help. She was close enough that Ryan could read her name tag. _Pat_ , it said. 

And then she was at their table, asking them if they wanted more beer, her eyes appraising Ryan. She smiled at him, and Ryan gave her a tight-lipped smile back. 

Mike watched this little exchange and hooted. "Hey, my friend here, he wants your number."

"Oh, really?" Pat asked. "Well, why doesn't your friend ask me for it himself?"

"He's shy!" Mike and Phil chorused together. They clinked glasses and laughed while Ryan wanted to climb under the table and die. Only Colin's hand on his leg soothed him.

"Well, he certainly wasn't shy on stage," said Pat. 

"It's just an act," Mike assured her. 

"Yeah, he's even raunchier in real life!" said Phil. "He takes home a new woman almost every week, and--"

While Phil wasn't that far off from the truth, Ryan still smacked him across the shoulder. "Shut up!" he hissed.

"'Scuse me, honey? Uh, yeah, you, the little honey in the short skirt! Where's my vodka? You said you'd bring it to me and I'm sittin' over here for ten minutes now and I still ain't got no vodka!" 

It was the old man from the table next to theirs. His eyes were bloodshot and Ryan could smell the alcohol fumes pouring off him. He leered at Pat and pinched her butt. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Pat apologized, but Ryan had the feeling she wasn't being sincere. "I'll get that for you right away." 

She gave Ryan one last backwards glance and ran off. Ryan looked at Colin, who nodded. _Go on_ , he heard in his head, accompanied by a heavy sigh. _If you must..._ He wondered why Colin sounded so defeated, but he didn't have time to reflect on it right now. 

He followed Pat to the bar, where he saw she was talking to Bob, the floor manager. They spoke for a moment, and then Bob headed off in the old man's direction. Ryan hoped that the old man would get kicked out. 

"I'm sorry," Ryan said, looking down at Pat from what felt like an impossibly awkward height. "About my friends. They're pretty drunk." And he laughed nervously.

"It's all right," she replied, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Um, what's your name?"

"Ryan."

She smiled, and Ryan was relieved that it wasn't her pasted-on waitress smile. It was real. "Hi, Ryan. I'm Pat."

"I know," Ryan said, gesturing to her name tag. 

She blushed. "Right. Um, listen, it's pretty busy and I've gotta get back to work, so..."

Ryan took a deep breath before the plunge. "Hey, _would_ you want to go out sometime? A group of us are going up to the art museum tomorrow afternoon at around two o'clock. If you want to come, meet me there." 

The words echoed in his ears as he waited for Pat's answer. "Tomorrow? I do have it off. All right, Ryan. I'll come to the museum with you. As long as your friends behave." She laughed and shook her head. 

"I'll make sure of it," Ryan replied, beaming from ear to ear as Pat rushed off with a quick goodbye. 

A date, he thought to himself as he stared after her. He hadn't had a date in forever. Just a string of meaningless one night stands. 

Which shoes should he wear? Maybe he'd ask Colin.

***

"So, _did_ you ask her out?" Colin's voice was dark with emotion as they walked back to Ryan's apartment. He'd been even quieter than usual tonight, and Ryan was worried about him.

"I don't know, why don't you use your magic powers and find out?" Ryan grinned and nudged Colin with his shoulder. 

"They're not magic powers," Colin grumbled, glaring at his feet.

"Hey..." Ryan stopped Colin in his tracks and tilted up his chin so he could see his face. "What is your problem tonight, Col?"

"Nothing," Colin whispered unhappily, and suddenly Ryan didn't know what he was thinking. It was like he'd been blocked. 

They started walking again, and Colin instantly returned to his interrogation. "So, did you?" 

Ryan rubbed his temples. "Well, I didn't want Phil and Mike bugging me, but I guess I can tell you. Yeah. She's coming to the museum with us tomorrow."

"Oh," said Colin. "Maybe I better not go..."

"What? You love the museum! Besides, it was your idea to go in the first place!"

"Yeah, but now everybody's all paired off, and I don't have a date, and..." Colin kicked a pebble, sending it scattering down the sidewalk. 

"Phil and Mike don't have dates either," Ryan pointed out.

"They don't count," Colin muttered.

"Please come, Col. You know it's not nearly as fun without you." Ryan knew he was begging, but he didn't care. "Besides, someone has to keep Phil and Mike in line... they're gonna freak out when they see Pat. I'll never hear the end of it." 

"But--"

Ryan jumped in front of Colin and grabbed his arm, staring down into his stormy eyes. "Please, Colin. I'll be your best friend!" He laid his head on Colin's shoulder and gave him his best ladykiller smile. 

Colin's lips twitched. "You're already my best friend, you big goof," he said, shoving Ryan playfully. 

Ryan smiled, and most of the panic died away. He hated it more than anything when Colin was upset. "I'll race you to my apartment!" 

Colin sighed and blinked up at him, letting him know he wasn't off the hook yet.

"C'mon, Col... I'll give you a head start..." 

Colin shook his head, wringing his hands.

"Winner gets the first shower in the morning?" Ryan offered, desperation starting to creep back into his voice. He hoped that Colin would stay over tonight. Ryan hated being alone after midnight. 

Colin grinned evilly. "Let me pick out your clothes tomorrow and we have a deal." 

Ryan huffed at him, crossing his arms. "No way!" 

"You don't trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," Ryan said, more thickly than he meant to. He trusted Colin more than anybody. He swiped one hand over his face, considering it. "Okay. It's a deal." _I trust you, Col_ , he thought, looking into Colin's eyes. 

Colin's eyes closed briefly and Ryan thought he saw a shiver pass through Colin's body. Ryan was about to hand Colin his jacket when Colin sprinted up the street. "I'm getting that shower!" he called over his shoulder, easily accepting Ryan's unspoken invitation to spend the night. 

Ryan's eyes widened. "Hey, come back here!"

And everything was all right in Ryan's world again as he chased after his best friend.

***

Pat looked beautiful, Ryan reflected. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her clothes were cool but casual. Ryan fidgeted in his own clothes. Colin actually had done a passable job at putting together an outfit, which was a miracle in itself. Ryan wore a plaid button-down shirt, his cleanest jeans, and his favorite pair of sneakers. Someday he hoped to have a pair of flame shoes or maybe even leopard print shoes. But right now he was on a budget and he couldn't afford such luxuries. 

"Hey," he said to her. Behind them, Mike hooted until Colin "accidentally" stepped on his toes, making Ryan laugh out loud.

He introduced her around to everybody. He tried not to make it out like he was showing off the hot chick he'd bagged, even though he totally was. And everybody probably knew it too.

He saved Colin for last, his words catching a bit as he introduced him as, "Colin, my best friend in the world." He couldn't help sharing a long and meaningful glance with Colin, and he had the strangest feeling that Colin was fighting back the urge to hug him to death. 

Pat immediately integrated herself into the group, which Ryan was grateful for. Otherwise, it would have been kind of awkward. It helped that she already knew a few people from the club. She didn't even stick by his side all the time, which was fine with Ryan. He spent some time with Colin, who seemed a little cheerier today.

"Dare you to flirt with the security guard," Colin whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Dare" was one of their favorite games to play when they were out. None of that sissy truth stuff for them. 

"I'm on a date!" Ryan protested. "And, he's a guy!"

"Chicken?" said Colin, smirking at him. 

"Col!" Ryan said, but he knew that in a minute he'd be over there using his best seductive voice to sweet talk the guard. If Pat noticed him, he would die.

"What are you waiting for?" Colin asked sweetly, but Ryan wasn't fooled. Colin might be able to convince everybody else that he was cute, innocent Colin, with his big doe eyes and his shy smile, but Ryan knew that there was far more to Colin than met the eye.

"All right, all right," Ryan grumbled good-naturedly as he stalked off to make a complete jackass of himself. He reminded himself over and over that it was all just a game.

When he returned a few minutes later, he had the guard's phone number in his pocket and his face was bright red. Colin snickered, and all Ryan could think of was revenge. 

"Dare you to breathe like Darth Vader until we move on to the next room," Ryan shot back.

"Oooh," Colin said, waving his hands in the air mockingly. "You showed me!"

Ryan pouted. "Shut up." He thought it was a good dare, and he didn't care what Colin said. 

Colin huffed in and out, ignoring the stares of the other museum patrons. "Asthma," Ryan explained.

"Does he need an inhaler?" a little old lady asked, craning her neck up to reach Ryan's eyes. "I think I have one here in my purse..." And she pulled out the largest handbag Ryan had ever seen and began rooting around. 

Pat appeared, ruining the fun. Colin instantly quieted, and Ryan sensed his invisible walls going up. "Oh. Look at that. I'm all better. Praise Jesus and all that. Um, I gotta go!"

Ryan caught him by the collar. "Not so fast. Walk with us for a bit."

"I... um, bathroom." Colin shrugged apologetically. And even though Ryan knew he was lying, he let Colin go. 

"I just came over to see what you were doing. Asthma, I heard you say?" Pat looked after Colin, concern showing on her face. "I hope he's all right." 

Ryan stifled a laugh. "Yeah. He's, uh, fine. How are you? Having fun?"

"Yeah... I've never been here before. Isn't that crazy? I live in Vancouver my whole life, and I've never been to the art museum." 

"Eh. It happens. I lived in Seattle until I was ten, and I never visited the Space Needle. We drove by it a few times, sure, but we never actually went to see it."

Pat sounded interested in Seattle, so Ryan spent a long time talking with her about growing up there. It was a little hazy in his mind, since he had only been a kid then, but he could still remember if he was pushed. And then Ryan realized that everybody else in their group was gone, and they had to run to catch up.

Pat began speaking with Sue, one of the girls from the club, and Ryan was left alone. Colin stepped up beside him, wiggling back and forth on the balls of his feet. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Eh, all right," Ryan replied.

"Think you'll see her again?" 

"I haven't decided yet." He wondered why Colin was giving him the third degree. 

"Hey, I've got the perfect dare this time," Colin said, a gleam that Ryan didn't like coming into his eyes.

"Aw, Col, no... no more dares. We almost got caught last time and--" Ryan broke off when he saw the crestfallen look on Colin's face.

"Oh," he said, sinking down onto a stone bench. "I'm sorry. I don't want to ruin your _date_." 

Ryan's brow furrowed. What was going on here? _Colin_ , he began, but the door to Colin's head was locked again. He had been shut out. 

Forced to speak aloud, Ryan tried again. "Colin..."

"Forget it, Ry. I'm just... tired, I guess. I don't know what's wrong with me today. You go on back to Pat." 

"Do it," Ryan said in a moment's decision.

"Huh?"

"Dare me." 

Colin lifted his head. "Really?" he asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

Ryan wondered if he had been tricked. But it was too late to turn back now. "Yeah."

"Okay," Colin said. "I dare you to walk into the statue room and dress The Thinker."

Ryan clapped a hand over his mouth as he realized that Pat and everybody else were heading into the statue room right now. 

"Ugh!" he groaned, glaring at Colin. "What am I supposed to dress him with?"

"Whatever you can scrounge up," Colin said, lacing his hands behind his back in preparation for the show.

"Oh, no," Ryan said, pulling him up to his feet. "You are not just gonna stand back and watch me do all the work. This is your dare too. We're doing this one together." 

Colin considered it for a moment. "Deal," he said, shaking hands. "All right, first we need some clothes..." 

"How about your scarf?" Ryan asked. 

"That's a good start," Colin said, handing over his scarf. "And maybe... I know, I'll go buy that guy's baseball cap off him. I've got five bucks." 

"That baseball cap's barely worth two!"

"So he'll be getting a bargain. But so will we... now, if we can just get our hands on a shawl or a jacket or something..."

Twenty minutes later, the Vancouver Art Museum's reproduction of Auguste Rodin's famous The Thinker statue was decorated with a ratty old Bluejays cap, a beautiful handknitted scarf, and a gay security guard's blue jacket. Colin and Ryan snickered and slapped each other five, while Pat watched them curiously and with a little fear.

Just then, a different security guard appeared on the scene, one who was immune to Ryan's hotness. Ryan shared one panic-filled look with Colin and they both took off together, laughing as they swerved through the art museum. The security guard, a rather portly older man, quickly fell behind. 

Colin found a door and pushed it open, pulling Ryan in beside him. They leaned against the wall and laughed until their sides hurt. Slowly their breathing evened out. Just then, Ryan glanced at Colin and realized that squares of colored light were playing across his face. He looked around the room. It was set up like a chapel, and sunlight filtered through dozens of stained glass windows.

"That was great!" Colin exclaimed, and Ryan could tell he was still pumped up. "Did you see the look on that guard's face?"

The rainbows on Colin's face pulled Ryan forward until he was tracing Colin's skin with his fingers. "Yeah... great..." he said huskily, moving closer.

Colin gulped and backed up against the wall, but there was nowhere to go. His movement sent the light in different patterns, and Ryan wanted to catch them all again with his fingers and his mouth and his tongue. "Colin," he breathed, and underneath him Colin trembled. 

A sliver of amber light illuminated Colin's lips. Ryan stared at the sliver, transfixed by it. He needed to claim that bit of light. He slowly licked his lips, and brought them against his best friend's until the light filled them both. 

The kiss was slow and innocent at first, and Colin let out a whimper which Ryan thrilled at, but then Ryan needed to lick, and Ryan needed to suck, and Colin opened himself up, letting go completely... _I love you, Ryan._

The light burned and Ryan pulled away, his eyes wide and scared. Too much, he thought. It was too much. And he ran, leaving Colin behind. And all Ryan could think of was Colin's face, the colors muted and draining away as somewhere outside the sun hid behind a cloud. 

***

"Do you want to go out again?" Ryan asked, his lips still burning from Colin's kiss and the light.

"I would love to," said Pat. 

"Great," Ryan said, forcing a smile. 

He tried to reach out for Colin's mind, but it was closed. 

He had lost his best friend.


	7. Six Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of six nights, Colin comes to a realization about Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the seventh story in The Extrasensory Series. We come to the end of the Dawn Cycle at last... next up is the Noon Cycle, set during the Second City years. 
> 
> This one's kinda angsty, and it's a Colin POV. The rating is PG again.

##  Dawn, 1977-1979:  
Six Nights 

The first night, I awake at one a.m. to the sound of my covers rustling. My pillow is still damp with tears and my eyes feel swollen, and at that moment I know you are there and I hate you. Your arms wrap around me and you don't say anything, you just press your face into my back. I feel your hot breath on me and the pain of watching you leave me after your kiss rocked my world spreads through my chest again.

I know I should turn around, tell you to get out, but I can't. I am frozen on the mattress, arms limp at my side. I won't touch you back. I won't give you that. I won't even look at you. 

You are silent, because I think deep down you know that if you speak, it will be over. Your breathing evens out and I wonder if you are asleep. I wonder if you'll cry out tonight, like you sometimes do. I wonder who will hold you this time, who will stop you from kicking and soothe your nighttime fears. 

My eyes grow heavy, and even though I want to stay awake, I want to punish myself for not being strong enough to say no to you, I can't fight the exhaustion and confusion of this long day. I tell myself that I will just take a little catnap, but your presence is too much for me. Even as angry at you as I am right now, you came to me. Having you beside me relaxes me like nothing else. And then with your arms around me, my thoughts tilt into dreams.

When I wake up in the morning, you are gone. I expected that, and I am grateful for it. I don't want to have to make awkward conversation with you. It might have even been a dream, except I can still smell little traces of you on the other pillow. I reach out my hand to touch it, marveling at the slight moisture left behind. Did you cry? A small and bitter part of me hopes you did. 

The second night, my bedroom door creaks open at a little past midnight. You slip in behind me. I feel you trying to get into my mind, but I'm not letting you in. If you have something to say to me, you'll have to say it the old-fashioned way.

You don't say anything. You just let out a shuddering breath and hug me closer. In spite of myself I curl up my legs, letting you spoon into me. 

I want to ask you why you're doing this. Why do you come to me like this? Why do you need me so much? I'm tired of hiding how I feel, and I thought you were too. Why else did you kiss me? Maybe I'm just another notch on your belt, something new to experiment with like your dozens of lovers. Maybe it was stupid of me to think that you could love me.

But if you don't love me, then why are you here, holding onto me like I'm your last link to the earth? Why is the back of my shirt wet? Why are you always there, inside my head, trying to wear down the wall I've built to keep you out? 

As I drift off I think I hear you say my name, but I don't respond. 

And when morning comes around again, the other half of my bed is empty and I almost convince myself that it was all a dream. This time you leave no evidence behind except for a couple of cigarette butts in my trash. 

On the third night, I lock my door. You slide through my window from the fire escape, and stand in front of me with your arms crossed. I should have known you wouldn't give up so easily. You are nothing if not persistent, and I want to smile but I bite it back just in time. 

My room is dim but I can see that you are dripping wet and shivering. The rain beats against the window as you stare at me, questions in your eyes. I nod my head once, and you strip off your wet clothes to your underwear and leap in beside me. Instantly you reach for me, and I pull the blankets around you, trying to warm you up. Then I roll over, because I can't stand the soft way you're looking at me. You whimper and your arms steal around me, but I won't turn around. 

I still don't know what you want, what you're trying to prove. Do you think it impresses me, you showing up here every night? Because you're still with _her_. I saw you kissing her tonight, outside of the club. But right now I don't want to think about anything even remotely connected to you and kissing. I just want to sleep... 

"Colin," you whisper. "Please..." 

I close my eyes and don't answer. 

At two a.m. you shoot up with a choked sob and clutch my arm, startling me awake. I smooth back the damp hair from your forehead and you drift back down to the pillow. Your eyes slide shut as you curl into my side and I allow myself to stroke your back. You won't remember this in the morning. You never do, when I ask. 

I wish I didn't remember, the next time I open my eyes. You seem to have disappeared again, but one of your socks is still on the floor.

By the time the fourth night rolls around, I think I am prepared to face you. But you don't come, and I fall asleep, a little disappointed that you're not here. 

At six a.m. I wake up to the scent of brewing coffee. I rub my face in confusion and pad out to the tiny kitchenette. A plateful of marbled rye bagels, my favorite kind, sits on the table, along with the morning paper and a glass of orange juice. And I smile, knowing that you did this for me. 

I search through the apartment, wondering if you're hiding somewhere waiting to pop out and surprise me, but you aren't here. I miss you, and I realize that didn't sleep well at all last night. 

I pop a bagel into the toaster as I settle down to read the morning paper, easily accepting your gift. 

The fifth night, you tentatively touch my shoulder and wait for me to turn before you crawl in beside me. Your eyes are wounded, and for the first time since this whole thing happened you let me feel your pain. I won't let you in though. Not tonight. 

You hug me fiercely, nearly crushing me. I let myself be hugged, even though I know that you were with her just a few hours ago. "I'm sorry, Col," you murmur into my hair, and it is your awkward apology that breaks me, because I understand how hard it is for you to admit you're wrong. My arms lace around your back and I return your hug. "I..."

"Shh," I say. 

"Are you still mad at me?" 

"I don't know what I am," I answer honestly as we sag back against the pillows. 

"I can't-- I need..." Your mouth moves, but you can't find the words. 

"Shh," I repeat, and I end up holding your trembling body until we fall asleep.

A note is on your pillow the next morning. "I'll be back," it says in your handwriting. 

I wait impatiently for the sixth night to arrive, but it's been a long and confusing week, and I end up falling asleep on the couch, waiting for you. Your lips brush my forehead, instantly awakening me, but I keep my eyes closed, pretending I'm still sleeping with the hope that maybe you will do it again. "Colin," you say instead, and your voice is thick and sultry, and I open my eyes and drown myself in your warm gaze. 

Suddenly, I realize that you do love me. You love me and you're scared. You don't think you're strong enough to fight for what we have. And what we have is so special that you want to put it up on a shelf somewhere to stand back and admire it, like a piece of expensive crystal you're afraid to break. And that's why you're pushing me away, why you're running to her instead. 

It's stupid. Possibly the stupidest thing you've ever decided to do, but I know I can't change your mind. You're giving me what you can. Whatever we have right now, it will have to be enough. 

You lift me off the couch and carry me into my room, your feelings etched all over your face. But you won't say it, and I won't either. 

_You were mine first_ , I think.

You don't agree or disagree, but you smile at me and touch my cheek as you ease me onto the bed. You roll in beside me. We lie shoulder to shoulder, electricity jumping between us. How am I supposed to ignore this for the rest of my life? It's torture. 

I love it, I decide, as you turn on your side and move closer to me. The waiting makes it all the sweeter when you finally do come around, and I know you will. You can't resist my charm forever, after all. I decide to make it as difficult as possible until you cave in.

You pull me into your arms and my head rests on your chest. _Someday_ , is all you think, and I find that my mind is open to you again. At least, part of it is. I'm not sure if I can let you see all of me, not yet. 

I hold onto that promise as I settle back against you. Your hands weave into my hair, sending shivers racing through me. I trace patterns on your chest with my fingers, earning a strangled moan from your direction. Torture. It becomes just another game, like the millions of others we play.

This time, I know that when I wake up, you'll be there.


	8. Years in the Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These memories are years in the making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the eighth story in The Extrasensory Series, rated PG again (I know, I'm dull *grin* ).
> 
> This is kind of a transition fic in the series... it spans about 6 years, bringing us up to the Second City years. I didn't want to just skip over without writing anything about their lives during that time, so I chose to do it this way.

## Noon, 1986-1989:  
Years in the Making

 

***

 

December, 1985:  
  
_Dear Colin,_  
  
_Thanks for the recipe. Pat loved it! She still has no idea that you taught me everything I know about cooking. I don't know how we managed to keep it a secret from her. But it makes me feel good to pull something over on the old lady._  
  
_I'm enclosing a recipe of my own. Okay, so I stole it from Betty Crocker. Still, you should try it! Maybe you'll be able to use it to woo one of your many admirers. Now that I'm gone, I'm sure they're desperate enough._  
  
_I'm only kidding. Seriously Col, I miss you. I hope you'll consider coming to Toronto for a visit. I know it's kind of a long drive, but it would mean a lot to me. What is keeping you in Vancouver anyway? You got a girl on the side or something?_  
  
_Why don't you just give it up already and come play with me at Second City? I think I can get you an audition!_  
  
_\--Ryan._  
  
  
  
  
December, 1980:  
  
Ryan watches intently as Colin chops and dices vegetables with a smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. "See? It's easy," he says, never breaking his concentration. "Go check the rice."  
  
Ryan scrambles towards the boiling pot on the stove, grasping a pot holder awkwardly in his large hands and lifting the lid. He breathes once he sees that the rice is simmering in the pot. The rice is his department tonight and he wants to get it right.  
  
"What about the chicken?" he asks, wringing his hands.   
  
"We'll do that next," Colin says, laying the knife down and shooting him a quick grin.   
  
Ryan loves it when Colin cooks for him, but he loves Colin's cooking lessons even more. Colin is an excellent teacher-- patient and even-tempered. Ryan wishes they could cook together all the time.   
  
Suddenly he has a vision of the two of them growing old together. He imagines long walks with Colin, both of them laughing as their steps easily fall into sync. He sees himself watching tv with Colin under a pile of blankets so thick that only their heads are visible. He can even picture evenings spent in the kitchen, the two of them making dinner a lot like they are tonight. And before he can stop it, a thought of the two of them cuddled together in a large four poster bed makes Ryan wish and wonder and hope...   
  
"Pat will be so surprised," Colin says, breaking Ryan out of his dreams.   
  
"Yeah," he says, a hint of regret in his voice as Colin begins teaching him everything he needs to know about how to prepare chicken. 

 

 

*** 

  
January, 1986:  
__  
Dear Ryan,  
  
I am sending you the most adorable picture of everybody's favorite cat, Gary. I know you will want to hang it on your fridge and display it for everyone to see. Gary says he misses you and the kitty treats and toys that you used to bring, because I am too cheap to buy him that junk. I still don't understand why he doesn't run away and find a better owner.   
  
I guess I must be doing something right, as hard as that is to believe.   
  
Well, things are pretty much the same here. Still barely scraping by. I may have to get another job waiting tables if things don't pick up soon.   
  
And quit bugging me about Second City! I already told you, I'd like to try and make it on my own, not by riding your coattails. I'd like to think I have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left.  
  
Love,   
Colin   
  
P.S. Mike says to tell you hi.   
  
  
  
  
January, 1981:  
  
Colin feels the cages lining the walls closing in on him. In the other room, dogs bark endlessly, making him clap his hands over his ears and wince. And the smell... "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."  
  
"Don't be silly, Col. Go pick one out."   
  
At least this room is quiet, Colin reflects to himself as he crosses towards the cages. He makes his way down the row, pausing to croon or stick his fingers through the bars at a particularly cute specimen. He doesn't pay attention to Ryan's snorting laughter.   
  
A tiny paw reaches out of one of the last cages and latches on to Ryan's sweater. Ryan mutters obscenities and tries to untangle himself, but the string just keeps getting longer and longer and longer, and the phantom paw won't let go no matter what he does...   
  
Colin laughs and reaches over to unhook Ryan. "This one," he decides, peering into the cage. Green eyes stare out at him. "This is my cat."   
  
The tabby kitten lets out a deceptively innocent sounding, "Mew?"   
  
"I think I'll call him... Gary," Colin continues, his eyes twinkling. Gary is one of Ryan's favorite names to use when they're playing on stage.   
  
"Bastard," Ryan mutters, and Colin's grin grows even wider. "You better be nice to the person who's giving you the money."  
  
"Thank you," Colin whispers, giving his friend a hug.  
  
Ryan's arms tighten around Colin, pulling him closer. Colin smiles into his shoulder and closes his eyes, savoring the moment. He doesn't open them until Ryan yelps. Gary is swiping at Ryan's arm.  
  
_He's just jealous,_  Ryan thinks, flashing Colin a flirty smile.  
  
Colin traces Ryan's leg with one foot.  _He should be._  

 

 

*** 

  
  
February, 1986:  
  
_Hey Col,_  
  
_Pat is being a total bitch again. I wish you were here, 'cause she is driving me crazy. Maybe it's PMS, but does PMS last for an entire month?_  
  
_She thinks I am cheating on her again. I told her I haven't done that since we left Vancouver, but I don't think she believes me. She is so paranoid. Why is it so hard to believe that I'm finally settling down? Took me long enough, huh? Hahaha!_  
  
_Well, sorry to let fly all this relationship crap with you. I just wish... oh, I don't know what I wish. Forget it. Sooner or later you realize you can't have everything, am I right?_  
  
_There's this really foxy gal at Second City who'd be perfect for you... I think I can get you a date with her. She's really funny-- and nice too._  
  
_If you won't come for me, maybe you'll come for a girl?_  
  
_\--Ry_  
  
_P.S. Tell Mike he's an asshole._  
  
  
  
  
February, 1982:  
  
Ryan tiptoes into Colin's room and eases onto the bed. He doesn't want to wake his friend, not tonight. He doesn't want to talk about it right now. He just needs Colin.  
  
Pat found out about the girls tonight. Ryan had cheated on her multiple times with various girls who approached him at the club throughout the years. He hadn't even really thought of it as cheating. To be cheating, you have to be emotionally involved, he always reasoned to himself. Nope, this was just all about the sex. It was nothing personal-- not even a big deal, really.   
  
She's upset right now, but she'll get over it and take him back. She always does. They fight like this all the time, with spectacular break ups and make ups. It's just par for the course of their drama-filled lives.   
  
Gary, now a full grown cat, is the only one still awake. Ryan showing up like this is such a common occurrence that the cat doesn't even move. He simply stares at him from the end of the bed with half-lidded eyes, before dropping his head back down to doze.   
  
Ryan watches Colin, who is still fast asleep. Colin looks like a little boy, curled around his pillow. He is whimpering in his sleep, so Ryan spoons in behind him, easing Colin into his arms. Colin instantly quiets, and Ryan gives him a tender squeeze as he watches over his friend. Even though he knows that Colin is two years older than him, he is so sweet and shy and trusting that Ryan feels like he has to protect him.  
  
He would never cheat on Colin, he thinks. 

 

 

*** 

  
  
March, 1986:  
__  
Ryan! Will you leave me alone already about this Second City stuff? Not even thoughts of a girlfriend can convince me. Don't you know that it is my destiny to die old and alone? Girls just don't seem to like me. They think I'm cute and adorable, like I'm a puppy instead of a super stud like you. Oh sorry, former super stud. (Hi, Pat!)  
  
Maybe I'm just meant to be single, I don't know. At least I have Gary. Who knows? He might get a date too. I saw a cat sniffing around here the other day, and I think it was a female.  
  
Don't mind me. I guess I'm just a little depressed. Things are bad, Ry. I need you.  
  
Love,   
Col.   
  
P.S. Mike has now officially retracted his hi.  
  
  
  
March, 1983:  
  
Colin sighs as he lets himself into his apartment. Another disaster of a blind date. Even Gary winding around his legs in greeting can't make him smile. Why doesn't anything go right for him? Why can't he find somebody?  
  
He drags himself over to the bathroom mirror and looks at himself critically. His hair is starting to thin, although if he combs it just right it's not that noticeable. His belly is a little bit rounded, but he doesn't consider himself overweight. He has nice eyes though, and he even thinks his smile might be decent, especially with the dimples.   
  
"Am I that repulsive?" he asks Gary, who hops on the sink for easier petting access.   
  
_Not at all,_  a voice answers in his head, and Colin jumps so high he thinks he might hit his head on the ceiling.  
  
He turns around and finds Ryan standing in the doorway with a half gallon of ice cream in his hands. Like always, Colin is amazed at how Ryan always knows just when Colin needs him the most. He pats Colin on the shoulder and disappears, probably into the kitchen to get started on the ice cream.   
  
"Well, there's one date that won't run away from me in horror," Colin says to Gary.   
  
"I heard that!" Ryan calls from the kitchen.  
  
Colin runs out to join him before all of the ice cream is gone. 

 

 

*** 

  
  
April, 1986:  
  
_Dear Colin,_  
  
_Thanks for the birthday card! I showed it to Deb, that girl from Second City I was telling you about earlier. She thought it was hilarious! I told her all about you and she sounds interested. I even showed her your picture, I hope you don't mind. But she thought you were cute. And not in that puppy dog way either. She really seems interested in you, I am telling you._  
  
_So, you say things are bad, but you've got a potential girlfriend over here, and your best friend who can probably use his "super stud" powers to get you an audition at Second City. You know, THE Second City? Where some of the best comedians in the business got their start? You're crazy if you don't leap at this chance. Don't let pride get in the way. You are really talented and I hate to see you just waste it._  
  
_Hey, remember when I turned twenty-five? That was probably my best birthday, and it was mostly thanks to you. I still look at your present all the time. In fact, I looked at it today and missed you even more than usual. I love it, Col._  
  
_Thank you._  
  
_Your best friend,_  
_Ryan._  
  
  
  
April, 1984:  
  
Ryan sits surrounded by a circle of laughing, talking friends, all squeezed together in the small apartment he shares with Pat. It is his twenty fifth birthday today and he has an entire pile of presents to show for it. He rips through them one by one, making little assholish comments and screwing around.   
  
Pat flits through the crowd, pausing to chat to various acquaintances, offering drinks or chips, and generally being the perfect hostess. Ryan admires the way she walks lightly on her feet, hips swaying side to side. It's just so feminine, and in that moment he loves her so completely that he wants to shoo all of the guests out of the apartment and take her right there on the floor.   
  
Her gift is the last one on the table, and Ryan eagerly opens it. He knows that money is tight, so he doesn't expect much. When he sees what is under the precisely wrapped paper, he lets out an involuntary gasp.   
  
He clutches the orange shoebox to his chest for a moment, then lovingly pries open the lid. He lifts out the new pair of Nikes, classic style with the red swoosh along the side. Exact copies of his favorite sneakers, the ones he had finally thrown out a couple months ago with tears in his eyes. Pat had made fun of him, so Ryan is extra touched that she bought these.   
  
He hugs her and kisses her and everybody makes little "aww's" and applauds. Ryan makes his way into the kitchen, and finds Colin leaning casually against the counter, waiting for him.   
  
Before Ryan can protest, Colin sneaks him outside and pulls a flat package out of his jacket. "For you," he says simply, holding it out in front of him.  
  
Ryan stares at Colin's gift. It is clumsily wrapped in newspaper, and it doesn't even have a bow. But somehow he knows that this gift will be the best one of the evening.   
  
He unwraps it carefully, and suddenly he can't speak. Colin has made him a scrapbook, filled with pictures and all kinds of memories from their seven years as friends. He flips through the pages, knowing that he will go back again later and revisit them when he has more time. He is stunned by the amount of work and time that Colin must have poured into this.   
  
He lingers at the picture of the stained glass chapel at the art museum, and raises his eyes to Colin's. "Col..." he says, feeling all choked up.   
  
"Happy birthday," Colin says. "It's all downhill from here, you know."  
  
And then they are hugging and Ryan is bawling like a baby and he doesn't even know why. What is it about Colin that affects him so much? Colin is the only one who has ever seen Ryan cry.   
  
Colin pulls away slightly, so they are resting forehead to forehead, and lightly wipes one of the tears rolling down Ryan's cheek with his thumb. "Did you like the Nikes?" Colin asks.   
  
And Ryan suddenly knows whose idea those sneakers really were... 

 

 

*** 

  
  
May, 1986:  
  
_Dear Ryan,_  
  
_All right, all right. I don't know how, but you've managed to convince me. This must be how you convinced all those women to go to bed with you._  
  
_I will be taking the plunge and moving out to Toronto as soon as I can. Do you think you'll be able to help set me up with an apartment? It will be tough to do it on my own from all the way out here. Call me when you get this, and maybe we can iron out some of the details._  
  
_I must be crazy to do this. Or maybe it's the only sane choice left. But you're right. I shouldn't waste my talent anymore. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not going anywhere. Maybe Second City can start me on my way._  
  
_Now I dare you to tell Pat that I'm your lover!_  
  
_Love,_  
_Colin_  
  
  
  
May, 1985:  
  
"I dare you to call Mike and tell him you only have a week to live!" Colin throws himself into "Dare" with his usual gusto. It's still his favorite game to play, after all these years.   
  
Ryan shakes his head. "What about we try something different this time?"   
  
"Like what?" Colin asks warily.  
  
"Truth," Ryan breathes, leaning forward.   
  
"But I thought you hated Truth. Remember? You said it was a copout."   
  
"That was like eight years ago, Col... people change. Besides, I'm all Dared out. You've been running me ragged here with all your Dares."  
  
When Ryan looks at him like that, Colin can't say no. And Ryan does seem a little tired tonight. "Fine," he says. "Can I ask you something first though?"  
  
"Go ahead."   
  
Colin gulps, knowing that he shouldn't ask this but unable to resist. "Um... what do you really think of me?"   
  
Ryan hesitates, and then whispers, "You're perfect."  
  
Colin blushes, and his heart skips a beat when he sees how soft Ryan's eyes are. "Me?" he stammers. "I'm nowhere near perfect. I haven't had a date in months, I clam up around people I don't know, and I'm already starting to lose my hair..." He touches his head self-consciously, feeling ashamed.   
  
Ryan strokes Colin's thinning hair and looks into his eyes. "You're perfect," Ryan repeats throatily. 

 

 

*** 

  
  
June, 1986:  
  
Colin steps off the plane, feeling small and lost. He knows he shouldn't feel that way, because he's moved around often enough. But somehow, this is different. This time, he has a choice. He is actually choosing where he wants to be.   
  
At the baggage claim, he is reunited with a yowling Gary. And then he feels a buzz in his head.  _Hey._    
  
Even with all of the noise and chaos in the airport, Ryan comes through loud and clear. Colin turns around and melts into Ryan's arms. It's been six months since he's seen his best friend, but there is no awkwardness between them. It's like they were never apart.   
  
They lean into each other, having their own little reunion.  _Missed you, Col._  
  
_Missed you, Ry._


	9. Fallen Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin auditions at Second City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ninth story in The Extrasensory Series. Another PG-rated, Colin POV. Is anyone surprised at this point? :)
> 
> What can I say, I feel like Colin and I are kindred spirits. *nods* It's kinda angsty... The next one will be more fun and light-hearted though. Double date and conflicted Ryan! What's not to love? :)

 

##    
Noon, 1986-1989:  
Fallen Breath

 

 

I don't think I breathed once the entire time I was auditioning at Second City. Although I guess that's impossible, because I wouldn't exactly be alive anymore. But then again, maybe I am dead and I just don't know it. It's the only way to explain Ryan bursting out of the theatre and practically wrangling me into a chokehold before shouting, "You got it!"   
  
I stare at him for a minute, thinking that if this is heaven, it's surprisingly similar to an auditorium, and Ryan is the least likely angel I've ever seen.   
  
"Col!" Ryan pulls away, and waves his hands in front of my eyes. "Did you hear me? You got it! You're in!"  
  
I blink as his words finally sink in. Blood flows back into my feet and hands, and I wonder if this is what a near death experience is like. And oh yeah, I'm breathing. I'm breathing so much I'm practically panting in Ryan's ear. "What?" is all I can manage to say. I feel the dopiest smile in the world spreading across my face, but I don't even care right now.   
  
Ryan's grin is even sillier. "You gotta come back inside with me now, they want to talk to you. They loved you, Col, and Deb said you did so great, and..."  
  
He pulls me back towards the theatre, babbling the whole way. I don't mind, because I can't think of anything except that maybe I really have died and maybe this really is heaven. And maybe Ryan really is an angel, if angels are six-foot-six and wear ridiculous-looking sneakers.   
  
The next hour passes in a blur of faces and paperwork and conversation. All I remember is Ryan at my side, beaming like a proud parent. He doesn't leave me alone, and I'm glad, because all this activity, being passed around from person to person to be poked at and prodded and inspected, it really wears me out. I've always been uncomfortable around strangers, and I feel like there's all this pressure on me to be the same funny, charming guy I supposedly was in my audition. I pray I don't let them down, when they see the man behind the curtain isn't anything special. He's just... me.   
  
And then I am tired and Ryan picks up on it. "You wanna get out of here?" he asks.  
  
When I nod, he starts steering me towards the door. "Wait," he says, putting a hand on my arm. "There's someone you gotta meet first."   
  
I feel like I've been run over by a truck at least three times, my head is pounding, and I desperately need a drink of water. But when I turn to tell him all of these things, he's gone. And suddenly the door is an impossibly long distance away, and I'll never be able to make it there without him. I have no choice but to stand, in the middle of the room, alone. My absolute worst fear.   
  
I can't breathe again, and I think I am going to pass out in front of all of these cool, funny Second City people who just gave me my big break that I've been dreaming about for years. They're gonna descend on me and revoke their decision at any second, because I am a fraud.   
  
And then Ryan's hand is on my shoulder, calming me. "Col?" he asks, worry lines creasing his forehead. "You all right, buddy?"   
  
I smile at him, and I am amazed to find that it's real. There is a girl standing beside him, her eyes darting between him and me. "I'm okay," I say, scratching my ear self-consciously.  
  
"Thank God," Ryan mutters, and I raise my eyebrows at him. "Colin, this is Deb."   
  
He gestures to the girl, who looks familiar to me. I have a vague memory of seeing her in the row of faces I was auditioning for. She is pretty and kind-looking, with blue eyes. "Hello, Colin," she says, shaking my hand. "You were wonderful in your audition, and Ryan has told me so much about you."  
  
"Hope you're not disappointed," I say, my eyes downcast.   
  
Ryan laughs. "He's so modest."   
  
Deb giggles. "It's kinda nice to meet an actor who isn't completely full of himself," she says, shooting Ryan a pointed look. Ryan's eyes widen and he looks around innocently while he whistles.   
  
I can feel that Ryan really wants to me to do this. He wants me to make this work. So I try to stick my head out of my shell a little bit more. "Ryan  _is_  a little bit full of himself sometimes, isn't he?" I say, giving Ryan a fond look so he knows I'm not being serious.  
  
"Hey!" Ryan exclaims, every inch the deeply wounded man. He shoves me playfully.  _Selling me down the river for a girl. I should've known._  
  
_Sorry,_  I think, biting back a smile.   
  
"You've been called worse," Deb teases Ryan.  
  
"He has!" I agree, thinking back to Ryan's standup days.   
  
"Well, it was really nice to meet you, Colin," Deb says, touching my arm. "I hope we'll have a chance to talk again."   
  
"Yeah," I say, feeling a little disappointed. I should have figured I wouldn't have a chance with Deb. She'd never go for a guy like me. "It was nice to meet you too."   
  
Ryan nudges me.  _She likes you._  But I just can't believe it's true, no matter what he thinks.   
  
"Um, listen... do you know your way around Toronto yet? Ryan says you grew up around Vancouver, and, well..." she trails off, looking up at me.   
  
I realize that she is actually throwing me a bone here, and once again I wonder if I am lying dead somewhere, because any other explanation is just too unreal. "Um, not really," I say. "I just moved here not even a month ago. I can get to the laundromat, and that's about it, really."   
  
She laughs and nods. "Well, laundry's always important. But if you ever want to see more than the laundromat, maybe we could... I mean, I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but I've been living in Toronto all my life, and I do make a pretty good tour guide."   
  
I bite my lip, and Ryan prods me with his foot. "Um..." I say, a kind of euphoria filling me up again. Suddenly I'm not tired at all. I shuffle my feet, feeling like a teenager working up the nerve to ask his crush to the dance.   
  
"He'd love to," Ryan fills in for me.   
  
Once again she glances back and forth between the two of us. For a second I see an odd expression drift through her eyes, but then it's gone and I convince myself that I imagined it. "Great," she says, scribbling her phone number on the back of an old program and handing it to me. "Call me, and I really mean that."   
  
"He'll call you," Ryan says, because I can't speak. This is just too much for me.   
  
"I hope so. See you later, Colin," Deb says, giving me a gentle smile.   
  
"Bye," I manage to croak out.  
  
Deb has barely turned away and Ryan's already slapping me five. I want to crawl underneath the stage. Ryan has the decency to pull me out the door before yelling, "All right, Col! This is great! You'll have a girl, I'll have a girl, and then..." He stops short, a guilty look in his eyes.   
  
It's then I realize why Ryan is pushing this thing with Deb so hard. He knows how I feel about him, and he wants me to move on, because he's moved on with Pat. He wants us to both have girlfriends, so we'll both be normal, and no one will question us anymore. I remember the dozens of times we were asked if we were a couple, after we performed together. Ryan would say he had a girlfriend, but then I couldn't say the same, and I could just see the speculation starting to form...   
  
I'm excited about Deb, but at the same time my heart feels like it's breaking. I realize I can't keep waiting around for Ryan forever. It's been years since I confessed my feelings to him in the stupidest, most awkward way... years since that amazing kiss. Years of sexual tension, dancing around each other. If he hasn't done anything by now, maybe it really is time to move on. Maybe he never loved me. Maybe he never will. Maybe he was just playing around with me the whole time, leading me on. Making me think I had a chance with him, when I didn't.   
  
Maybe I'm not in heaven. Maybe I'm in hell, and Ryan is a fallen angel. Suddenly it hurts to breathe. 

 


	10. The Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Colin go on a double date with Pat and Deb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the tenth story in The Extrasensory Series. Another PG story, but hey, at least it's a Ryan POV this time! This is another of my favorites from this series. It's kinda wonky, but it features jealous!Ryan, so hopefully someone will get a kick out of it. :)

##    
Noon, 1986-1989:  
The Games We Play

 

Ryan plodded up to the counter, stealing an entire handful of little pencils. "Ryan!" Pat hissed, glaring at him. She tried to make him put them back before the man at the register saw them, but Ryan wasn't giving them up without a fight. He stuffed them in his pockets and stuck out his tongue.   
  
"Oh, let him have his fun, Pat," Colin said mildly. "He has so little left to live for, these days."   
  
Ryan grumbled to himself for a minute. "Yeah, yeah, Mr. one half of the most perfect couple at Second City. No one cares what you think."   
  
"I do!" Deb piped up, giving Colin a warm look. Colin grinned and threw his arm around her shoulder, which made Ryan glower down at his feet. Stupid double date. Whose idea was it anyway? Oh yeah. His.   
  
"Can I help you?" the counter man asked. He wore a ridiculous Hawaiian print shirt and a visor. A visor, Ryan thought with disbelief. Who actually wore visors?  
  
Colin was busy whispering in Deb's ear, so Ryan stepped up, rolling his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Uh, four for mini golf."  
  
"Okay, that'll be ten bucks."  
  
Ryan cleared his throat and looked over at Colin. Colin didn't appear to notice. He was too busy making Deb blush and giggle. Ryan tried again, louder. When that didn't work, he marched over and tapped Colin on the shoulder. "Hey, Col? Yeah, sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but... you got five bucks?"   
  
Colin's eyes shone with amusement, and Ryan had the strangest feeling that Colin was teasing him somehow. "Sure, Ry. Sorry." He shrugged and plucked a five dollar note from his pocket. "You know how it is."   
  
"Right," Ryan said, stalking back over to where Pat waited at the counter. He paid for the game, and put his arm around her, trying to get even with Colin. He could be part of a happy couple too.   
  
"Oooh, time to pick out the balls!" she exclaimed, pushing him away.   
  
Ryan clenched his teeth and picked out a green ball. It fit his mood perfectly. Pat chose pink, and Deb took purple. Colin thought for a minute and grabbed a dark yellow ball from the bucket, glancing at Ryan. Ryan closed his eyes for a second, trying not to remember the amber light hovering on Colin's soft lips all those years ago...   
  
When he opened his eyes, Colin was helping Deb find a putter. He stood behind her with his arms around her, demonstrating how to use it, and Ryan almost dropped his ball. He busied himself with penciling their names on the sheet so he wouldn't have to look at them. Pat leaned her head against his shoulder, and Ryan felt a little better.   
  
"All right, we ready?" he asked, herding them all towards the first hole.   
  
"Just a second!" Deb's sweet voice exclaimed. "I can't find my earring!"   
  
Colin made a big show of stopping everything, really getting into playing the hero. Ryan stood with his arms crossed, glancing around on the ground but mostly faking it. This was such a waste of time. He wanted to play, dammit. Pat and Deb ran everywhere, combing through the flowers and bushes. They decided to go back to the parking lot, and suddenly Ryan was alone with Colin for the first time in what felt like forever.   
  
Colin stepped over to him. "You okay?" he asked.  
  
"Fine," Ryan snapped.   
  
"You know, we don't have to do this... maybe we should try another time?"  
  
"No, we already paid for the game. We might as well finish it. If we ever start it, that is," Ryan said, glaring in the direction of the parking lot.   
  
He knew it wasn't fair, blaming Deb. He liked Deb, and he was the one who pushed Colin so hard to get together with her. He didn't know why he was acting like this, but it was like he couldn't stop. Every time he saw Colin and Deb together lately, he wanted to kick something.  
  
Colin nodded, and bit his lip. Ryan knew he had hurt his best friend's feelings. "Hey," he said. "Col..."  
  
"Found it!" Deb chirped, appearing with Pat. She held up her earring, a frilly feathery thing.   
  
Ryan sighed and watched Colin make a huge fuss over the earring. He made her put both of them in her pocket, so she wouldn't lose them again. "'Cause they're too pretty to lose," was how he put it.  
  
Ryan wanted to gag.   
  
Pat took his hand, squeezing it. They walked over to the first hole. No one else was playing, so they had the entire course to themselves. "We can take our time," Ryan heard Deb murmur to Colin.  
  
These were going to be the longest eighteen holes of his life.   
  
"Who wants to go first?" Pat asked.   
  
Colin and Deb were too busy cooing at each other, so Ryan volunteered. He whacked his ball way harder than he meant to, and it ended up going completely off the course. "Sorry!" he said.  
  
No one was even paying attention to him. Apparently, he wasn't that important. He retrieved his ball and set it on the edge of the green.   
  
Pat went next, and managed to get her ball within a few feet of the hole. Then Colin went, but Deb distracted him and his ball went even more haywire than Ryan's had. Ryan smirked to himself as Colin dove off into the bushes.   
  
After Colin reappeared, all scratched up, and Deb made exclamations over how brave he was, she stepped up to putt. Colin helped her line up her shot, again standing behind her with his arms around her. He stood way closer than necessary too. Ryan wanted to steal Deb's putter and bop both her and Colin on the head with it.   
  
Beside him, Pat spoke up. "Why don't you ever do that anymore?" she asked as she watched Colin and Deb.  
  
Ryan pondered this for a minute. That was a good question. Why didn't he? Two could play at this game, after all. Suddenly, miniature golf was about to get a whole lot more interesting...  
  
"You're right," he said. "I guess I have been neglecting you." He waited until Deb let fly and then leaned over to kiss Pat's neck. She moaned and leaned into him. "I'll make it up to you."  
  
"You're doing a good job so far... mmmm..."   
  
"Hey, break it up over there!" Colin called. "It's your turn again, Ry."  
  
"Oh. Sorry. I got distracted." Ryan smiled widely, brushing past Colin.   
  
Colin didn't even notice. He was too busy looking at Deb. Ryan groaned and in desperation poked Colin on the shoulder. "Hey, Col?"  
  
Colin turned around, and Ryan felt triumphant when Colin's eyes stayed on him and him alone. "Yeah?"  
  
"Uh..." Ryan paused, buying some time to think. "What was your score? I forgot to write it down."   
  
"We're still on the first hole," Colin reminded him, looking a little puzzled.  
  
Ryan blushed. "Right. Sorry." He stepped away, but he knew Colin was still watching him. He could feel it.   
  
They managed to get through the first hole with no other incidents. And even the second, third, and fourth hole were relatively pain-free. But then they had to cross a little bridge to get to the fifth hole...   
  
"Aww," Pat said, nudging Ryan. "Aren't they sweet?"  
  
Ryan saw Deb and Colin standing on the bridge, kissing deeply. "Yeah. Adorable," he grumbled, looking away.  
  
"You're so romantic, Ryan," Pat said, the sarcasm in her voice practically dripping onto the green.   
  
Ryan thought of all the times he spent the night at Colin's apartment back in Vancouver, the two of them falling asleep wrapped up together in each other's arms, with Colin's old quilt covering them both. He remembered the time the power went out, and how he could still recall the exact patterns of the candlelight that flickered over Colin's face as they played cards and told stupid jokes all night long. He thought of making snow angels at midnight, with Colin all bundled up beside him. And then he remembered the two of them laughing when they ran through the fresh snow afterwards, and how he had looked back and their tracks seemed to go on forever...   
  
"Guess being romantic's just not my thing," he said, turning away a bit so Pat wouldn't see his eyes getting all damp. He blinked a few times, and the sensation went away.   
  
"That's okay," Pat murmured, running her hand down his thigh. "You have... other qualities..."  
  
But even thoughts of sex couldn't get Ryan out of his funk. "You guys coming or what?" Deb asked from the fifth hole. "We're about to start without you!"   
  
And Ryan and Pat traded glances and ran towards the fifth hole. Ryan was relieved to see that Deb and Colin were standing a reasonable distance from each other. He caught Deb's eye for a minute, and swore she sent him a flash of sympathy. He could still pick up feelings from other people sometimes. But that was crazy. Why would Deb be feeling sorry for him?   
  
They played through the fifth hole. Colin even managed to get a hole in one. For a second, he didn't know who to hug first. He stepped towards Ryan, but then caught himself and embraced Deb instead. Ryan noticed his mistake though, and smirked. As soon as Colin let go of Deb, he was there waiting for his turn.   
  
Colin looked surprised to see him. He gasped as Ryan reached for him. Ryan intended for it to be a manly hug, a little pump and squeeze and release. Instead they both held on for several minutes, and Ryan realized that one of Colin's hands was rubbing his ass.  _I'm sorry, Ry._  
  
Ryan's head vibrated with chills, and he gulped.  _Me too,_  he thought, bringing Colin close enough so he could smell the shampoo in his hair. His hand drifted towards Colin's ass, claiming it.   
  
_Friends?_  
  
_Best friends,_  Ryan confirmed, pulling back so he could see Colin's face. Colin grinned at him, and Ryan felt like his best friend was back.   
  
They reluctantly dropped their arms, and Deb watched them. She did that sometimes after he and Colin were affectionate with each other. Ryan wondered why. There was nothing wrong with two best friends sharing a nice hug every once in a while, he reasoned to himself. Of course, best friends generally didn't linger with their hands on each other's asses, but so what?   
  
"Um..." Ryan took demented pride in how flushed Colin looked, how his chest was hitching. "Your turn, Deb."   
  
"I already went," she said, her mouth twitching.   
  
"Oh... right." Colin tried to nod and pretend like he'd known that all along.  
  
"What was your score, Deb?" Ryan asked, plucking one of his many pencils out of his pocket.   
  
"Four," Deb replied.  
  
Ryan and Colin traded embarrassed looks. They had completely missed four shots because they had become so wrapped up in each other again.  _Oops?_  Ryan thought, which made Colin snort.   
  
Holes six and seven went by in a blur. By the time hole eight rolled around, boredom had claimed Ryan. He pulled Colin aside.   
  
"Let's go steal some more balls," he said.  
  
"Why?" Colin asked.   
  
"You know why."  
  
"You're bored, and you need a challenge," Colin immediately answered.   
  
"Got it in one," Ryan joked. He slapped his knees, giggling.   
  
Colin thwapped him on the head. "That's terrible," he said, but he smiled indulgently anyway. "All right, I'm game. Why don't we tell the girls to keep playing without us?" His eyes glinted with a hint of the old mischief.   
  
"Sounds good to me," Ryan agreed, eager for the chance to spend some time alone with Colin.  
  
Colin ran off to explain to the girls, who looked at him like he was crazy. They should've been used it to by now, especially Pat. He and Colin were always sneaking away somewhere when they were out together. It was one of her favorite things to complain about, and then throw back in his face when they were fighting.   
  
But he wasn't going to dwell on that right now. He was here, with his best friend, planning a ball heist. And suddenly miniature golf was exciting again.   
  
"All right," Colin said. "How are we going to do this?"   
  
"Well, I think one of us needs to distract Visor Dude over there..."  
  
"Visor Dude?" Colin asked.   
  
Ryan realized that Colin had been too busy with Deb to even notice the badly dressed man at the register. "Dude with a visor," he explained. "You'll know him when you see him."  
  
"You should distract him," Colin said. "You're better at it that I am."  
  
"You just want to watch me flirt."  
  
"You know it," replied Colin with a smile.   
  
Ryan beamed. Yeah. He still had it. "Okay, so I distract him. What are you gonna do?"   
  
"Grab the ball bucket and run?"  
  
Ryan burst out in surprised laughter. "That works. I'll meet you over by hole fifteen. And we'll-- well, I'm not sure what we'll do yet. But it'll be fun."   
  
"Okay," Colin agreed, shaking Ryan's hand. "Let's do it."   
  
Ryan walked towards the front register, letting the calm flow over him. This was just another role, like the hundreds of others he'd played throughout the years. "Hey," he breathed in Visor Dude's direction. He saw Colin crouched by the side door, ready to sneak inside the building.   
  
Visor Dude looked up. "Um... is something wrong?" he asked, fidgeting slightly at the look in Ryan's eyes.   
  
"Yeah," Ryan said. He reached across the counter and played with the button's on Visor Dude's Hawaiian shirt. Visor Dude jumped back, smoothing his shirt.   
  
"What the hell?" he yelped.  
  
This wasn't working. Ryan decided to change tactics. "Uh, I just wanted to ask you some questions about mini golf. See, I'm thinking about opening my own place, 'cause I just love the game so. Came this close to being national champion, six years ago. I want to start other people down the path to mini golf love, to let it fill their hearts like it filled mine..."   
  
"That is so wonderful," Visor Dude replied earnestly. "It does have a certain wild beauty to it, doesn't it? The windmills, the colored balls..."  
  
"Exactly! So, how many windmills is it advisable to have if it's your first course?"   
  
Once Ryan got Visor Dude talking, it was impossible to shut him up. He really did love miniature golf, and Ryan had to admire that. Even if miniature golf was the tackiest game in the world.   
  
After Colin stole the ball bucket, Ryan didn't see any need to keep standing around jawing. Miniature golf just wasn't that interesting. "Hey, thanks for all your help," he said quickly. "I should get back to my game though. My date's waiting."  
  
And with that he dashed off, leaving Visor Dude staring after him with his mouth open.   
  
He rounded the corner and made a beeline for the fifteenth hole. The girls were only on hole nine, so they had plenty of time. He spotted Colin sitting on a bench, waiting for him with the ball bucket between his legs. He was out of breath, and Ryan fought the urge to kiss his rosy cheeks.   
  
"So, you're gonna quit acting?" Colin teased as Ryan sat beside him.   
  
"No future in it," said Ryan.   
  
Colin snorted. "You got that right."   
  
"Your parents still tell you that?"  
  
"Only all the time."  
  
"Same here. You'd think they'd realize we were serious about it, now that we're almost thirty."  
  
"Yeah, don't remind me... I'm turning thirty this year!" Colin grumbled.   
  
"You don't look like you're thirty," Ryan said, looking Colin over.   
  
"Yeah, I look older," Colin said, a self-deprecating smile on his face. "My hair..."   
  
"I love your hair," Ryan said before he could stop himself. Didn't Colin realize how attractive he was? "You-- You look good, Col. Uh, I mean, not like that, just... oh, forget it." Ryan looked down at his lap.   
  
Colin took Ryan's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," he whispered, making Ryan feel even more flustered.   
  
"We... we should probably..." Ryan shook his head, focusing on the silver bucket. "Balls!"  
  
"What?" Colin asked, giving him an amused look.   
  
"What are we gonna do with the balls?"   
  
"I don't know, it was your idea, remember? I'm just the innocent bystander." Colin made his eyes all huge and round, and cocked his head to one side. Ryan hated when he did that onstage, because the audience would "aww" and Ryan always wound up feeling terrible, even though he knew that Colin wasn't serious.   
  
Ryan closed his eyes, and the first thing that popped into his head was stained glass... "Rainbows," he said dreamily, remembering Colin's face. He unconsciously moved his fingers along the bench, touching the colored light.   
  
"What?" Colin repeated.   
  
Ryan blushed and ran his hands over his face, trying to think of how to get out of this one. "We could make a giant rainbow out of the balls!" he finally came up with.   
  
"Where would we put it?"   
  
"On the eighteenth hole," Ryan said immediately.  
  
"It's risky," Colin said. "The eighteenth hole's close to the registers."   
  
"It's worth it. Besides, Visor Dude loves me now. We're kindred souls."  
  
"You're deluded," Colin teased.  
  
"Aww, c'mon, Col. Please?" Ryan begged.  
  
"All right-- goof." Colin ruffled Ryan's hair, and Ryan sighed, leaning in for more. "Get the balls. Let's go."   
  
"Yes!" Ryan chanted, leaping up from the bench. He picked up the bucket in one easy motion and jogged along after Colin.   
  
They reached the eighteenth hole and immediately got down to work. Ryan separated all of the balls into colored piles, and Colin started forming the arc of the rainbow. Colin had just positioned the last purple ball, when Deb and Pat came into view, giggling over something or other.   
  
"What on earth are you two doing?" asked Deb.  
  
"Hey, Deb. Like our rainbow?" Colin asked, getting up and dusting himself off. He kissed Deb on the cheek. Ryan could barely watch.   
  
"It's... lovely," Deb replied after a moment.   
  
"You guys are nuts," said Pat, but she hugged Ryan anyway.   
  
"How are we supposed to finish the game?" Deb asked. The rainbow spread across almost all the green on the eighteenth hole.  
  
Ryan froze when he saw a couple approach Visor Dude's lair. They wanted to play, he realized. And when Visor Dude figured out that the balls were missing...   
  
"Hide the bucket!" he yelled to Colin.  
  
But it was too late. The side door burst open, and Visor Dude's eyes immediately settled on the rainbow of balls. It was kind of impossible to miss it, Ryan reflected.   
  
"You!" Visor Dude yelled, glaring at Ryan. "I should've known!"   
  
Ryan attempted his best "Colin" face, but it didn't quite work on him. Colin snickered beside him, and then kicked him for good measure.   
  
Ryan grabbed both Pat and Colin's hands, and Colin reached for Deb. They made a break for it, running towards the parking lot with Visor Dude on their heels. They skidded to a stop and piled into Ryan's car. Ryan's hands were shaking so hard he fumbled with the key for a moment, but he finally got it in. He reversed the car and squealed off.   
  
"Don't come back!" Visor Dude was yelling from somewhere behind them. "Don't ever come back!"   
  
His eyes met Colin's in the rearview mirror, and both of them laughed. And just then Ryan knew that getting banned from playing miniature golf was completely worth it.   
  
He hated miniature golf anyway. 


	11. As You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another adventure, but it isn't like the others... this time, much more's at stake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the eleventh story in The Extrasensory Series. And OMG, it's not PG this time! It's rated R for some mild sexual references. Oh, and it's a Colin POV again. :)

## Noon, 1986-1989:  
As You Are

 

Beside me, Ryan watches the road. I have no idea where he's taking me. He showed up at my apartment earlier and practically forced me into his car, telling me he had a surprise. He won't even let me call Deb.   
  
It's hard to believe that I've been here in Toronto for almost two years now. In fact, it will be two years in only a couple more weeks. That means I've been together with Deb for almost two years too. Sometimes I miss Vancouver, but mostly I'm happy here. I love what I do, and I know how lucky I am. I know how it feels to struggle, although I guess in some ways I'm still struggling. I haven't exactly made it big yet, even though I have steady enough work, thanks to Second City.   
  
I guess what I miss the most about my life in Vancouver is Ryan. We're still as close as ever, but we don't get to see each other as much anymore. We both have girlfriends and performances and tours that conspire to keep us apart. I miss the days when we had nothing to do, so we'd call each other up and go off on an adventure together. I miss the long talks, the companionship. And okay, the never-ending flirting.   
  
I guess that's why I'm not angry with him for dragging me off with him like this. I know that he misses our time together too. Sometimes I wonder if he still remembers all the times he used to come over my apartment in the middle of the night. I'd wake up in the morning and he'd be stretched out next to me, his arm draped across me like he owned me. He hasn't done that since we moved out here. I think he's afraid of running into Deb, which is understandable, but... when I wake up in the morning, a tiny part of me always hopes that he'll be there.   
  
We've been driving for about an hour now, and I am totally lost. I don't have the wanderlust that Ryan has. I tend to stick close to familiar things, and even after two years in Toronto I still don't completely know my way around. I can get to a few of the neighboring towns, but that's about all. We already left behind everything that I know a long time ago... I guess Ryan really did mean it when he said he had a surprise.  
  
It's early evening now, and the sun is starting to sink a bit closer to the horizon. Twilight is my favorite time of day. I love how the sky lingers between light and dark, with citrus colored clouds. Sometimes I wish I was a painter instead of an actor, so I could go out and try to capture even a tenth of the beauty. Unfortunately, I'm thirty years old, and stick figures are the extent of my artistic talent.   
  
Ryan exits the highway, and I watch as the roads whiz by. The geography starts to thicken out with trees, and we pass through towns less and less. We're heading north, I realize. Northern Canada is wild and relatively untouched by civilization, with plenty of lakes and forests and animals. Somehow I've never pictured Ryan as the mountain man type, but then again, he's always appreciated natural beauty just as much as I have. In Vancouver he was always dragging me to parks, and we even went stargazing a couple of times.   
  
We turn onto a dark and unpaved country road. "This'll be a bit bumpy," Ryan says. "Just... hang on."  
  
I simply nod and go back to looking out the window, barely noticing the car vibrating up and down. The sun has almost set, and I can see the first stars pricking at the sky. It's weird to think that those stars are always there, we just can't see them during the day. I wonder what else only comes out at night.   
  
We drive for what feels like twenty miles, although we're going so slow that it can't actually be more than five. And then Ryan turns onto an even smaller road. In the dying light I turn to look at him, and his leg is bouncing. "Ryan?" I ask. It's the first time I've spoken to him in at least an hour, although it doesn't feel that way.  
  
"I'm okay... Just... nervous-- excited, I mean." He takes his eyes off the road for a minute to glance at me.   
  
I pat his leg. "Are we almost there?"  
  
"Yeah, it's just a little bit further down here..."  
  
Ryan's car rolls to a stop in front of a forest. "We'll have to hike," he says, shrugging at me apologetically. "It's not far though. I've got supplies and stuff in the back."   
  
We both get out of the car, and Ryan hands me a backpack and a flashlight, and then shrugs on his own backpack. He grabs a couple sleeping bags and pillows, and leads me into the woods. An owl hoots from somewhere up ahead, almost making me drop the flashlight. Ryan touches my shoulder, soothing me.   
  
It's funny how different the world looks after sunset. Shadows steal over the ground, covering everything like mist. The trees are ghostly shapes rising out of the darkness. I shiver and wait for the moon to rise.  
  
Ryan guides me through a path in the woods. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, and things don't seem quite so spooky. The trees start to thin, and then we reach a clearing. The moon is just peeking over the tops of the trees, and I gasp when the moonlight reflects off the surface of a magnificent lake.   
  
_Ryan..._  is all I can think.  
  
"Do you like it?" he asks aloud.   
  
"How did you find this?"   
  
He laughs nervously. "You'll think I'm crazy..."   
  
"I won't, I swear."  
  
Ryan tugs at his collar. "You remember all those ballroom dancing lessons that I said Pat forced me to try?"   
  
"Yeah," I say, wondering where this is leading.   
  
"There weren't any lessons. I just said that, so I could look for this. For you," he finishes in a whisper.  
  
I gulp, and suddenly I can't think of anything to say. I'm touched that he remembers the time I dreamed about the lake. It must have been five or six years ago. I woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him about it, because it was so real, and I wanted to share it with him. I still remember lying in bed with him, closing my eyes and sending him image after image.   
  
"We'll find it," he had promised me. "We'll find your lake."   
  
All this time, I thought he forgot. He never brought it up again, and I didn't want to ask, because I'd feel really stupid if he didn't know what I was talking about.   
  
_Ryan..._  I think again. I want to hug him, but I suddenly feel shy. It must've taken him forever to find this place. I try to remember how long he's been mentioning ballroom dancing lessons. It's been at least eight, nine months.   
  
"You like it?" he asks, looking uncertainly at me. "It's close to your dream at least, right? 'Cause it's been a while, and--"  
  
"I... it's...  _Ryan_..." I force myself to stop stammering like an idiot. Finally I manage to say, "Thank you."  
  
He punches me on the shoulder and grins. "Yeah? Well, what else are best friends for?" He's trying to play it off like it's nothing, but I know that he's pleased. "So... you, uh, want to go swimming?"   
  
"I didn't exactly bring my bathing suit," I say.   
  
"You don't need one," Ryan says, smirking at me.   
  
I gape at him. "Um..." I blush as I realize what he's implying. "You want to skinny dip?"   
  
"Hey, you're always bragging about the size of your package onstage," Ryan says, all low and throaty. "So what are you worried about?"   
  
I make a squeaking noise in the back of my throat as a thrill races down my spine. "I'm not worried!" I insist, but my voice is higher than normal. "I just..." But I don't know how to end my sentence convincingly enough, so I let it hang there.  
  
"Dare you to skinny dip with me," Ryan murmurs in my ear, making me jump. I can feel all of the blood in my body flowing downward. And that is _not_ good, because we're going to be naked in a minute, and...   
  
"That's... not fair," I say weakly.  
  
"C'mon, Col, live a little. Anyway, there's nobody around for miles. We won't get caught."  
  
My hands are shaking as I start to undo the buttons on my shirt. Ryan does a double take, like he can't believe I'm actually going through with it. I try to go slowly, because I need the extra time to cool down. I pretend like I'm performing onstage, and I can't let anything get to me no matter how funny the people around me are. If I break, I lose.   
  
Ryan tosses his shirt off without even bothering with more than the top two buttons. I watch him, curious in spite of myself. I've seen him shirtless before. In fact, I've seen him in his underwear, although boxers aren't exactly revealing. It's been a couple years, and he's just as thin as ever. His ribs are visible, but I admire his nicely defined arms and chest. I wonder if he's been working out.   
  
He shoots me little glances too, waiting until I have my shirt off before he proceeds. His eyes travel up and down my torso, and I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is just another performance and I have to be professional. He reaches for the button on his jeans and unsnaps it. I unbutton my jeans too, and slide them off. Ryan lets his puddle to his feet and steps out of them. His legs are pale and incredibly long.  _You look like a crane,_  I think before I can stop myself.  
  
He grimaces and rolls his eyes.  _Thanks a lot. Now stop stalling._  
  
My heart is pounding and I wonder if Ryan can hear it in the silence. We stare at each other for a few seconds, hesitating. Ryan puts his thumbs in his waistband, then stops. He's waiting for me. I pull my boxers away from my waist, and then slide them off in an easy motion, trying to appear more confident than I feel. He copies my movements, and we both straighten up.   
  
I toe the dirt, not wanting to look at him first. My mouth is utterly devoid of moisture. But finally curiosity wins out, and I raise my eyes. He is openly staring, and he licks his lips as he moves closer. I scratch the back of my ear and my gaze drifts downward of its own accord.   
  
He's half hard, which flatters and excites me in turn. Before I can stop myself, I wonder what he would look like completely hard, and I kick myself in the shin for punishment, hoping the pain will dull the pleasure racing through me.   
  
"I've... never seen..." He gestures towards me, and for a minute I think he's going to touch me and I think maybe I would let him...   
  
"Huh?" I say after a second, breaking myself out of my trance. I look down, and remember that I happen to be uncut. I blush at my own half erection poking up at me. "Oh! Well, um, circumcision isn't really common in Scotland," I say.   
  
He bursts out with a shaky laugh, and his throat tightens. "Oh. Right. Well, it's, uh... I mean, it makes you look thicker," he babbles. "I guess you weren't kidding..."   
  
"I never kid about penis size," I say with a mostly straight face.   
  
He snorts back laughter, and suddenly the weird tension between us evaporates. He's just Ryan, my best friend, same as always. "Race you to the water?" he asks.  
  
I nod and we crash into the lake. The water's cool, maybe even a hint cold, and it flushes all of the heat out of my system.   
  
I duck my head under the water and swim out towards the middle. Ryan trails behind me. "Careful," he says. "I'm not sure how deep it is."  
  
"Yes, Dad," I tease.  
  
"Dad?" he growls. "Would your dad do this?" And he picks me up out of the water and flips me off his shoulder.   
  
I go down with a spectacular splash, and when my head breaks the surface of the water again, I instantly say, "He might."  
  
He goggles at me for a minute, and then laughs. "Why do you always have to come back like that?" he asks.  
  
"You'd rather I just drowned?"  
  
He pauses, and then realization spreads over his face. "Would you be surprised if I said yes?"  
  
"Would you like to live to see tomorrow?"   
  
"Are you threatening me?" he asks, kicking closer.   
  
"Now why would I do that?" I splash him.   
  
"Because... because... damn!" He shakes his head, and I take a victory lap around him. Ryan sucks at Questions Only.  
  
We float along on our backs for a while, neither of us saying anything. I like it when we don't talk. Maybe that sounds like an odd thing, but for me it means that we are comfortable enough with each other to just be quiet and enjoy the moment. Some of my favorite memories of Ryan don't involve any words at all. His touch and his presence are more important to me than anything he will ever say.   
  
Right now he's smiling up at the stars. Ryan loves the night sky. He doesn't ever say it out loud, but I know. I think back to ten years ago, when we first met. He was such a goofy-looking kid when he was eighteen. He hadn't grown into his features yet, and he was much scrawnier than he is now. His eyes are the same bright green though, if a little more crinkled at the corners, and I hope that the light never goes out of them.   
  
_Beautiful,_  I think.  
  
_The stars?_    
  
_No... well, yes... but no. You._    
  
He shakes his head, and I shake my head too. Why doesn't he see it? I close my eyes and show him the wonder that illuminated his face just moments ago.   
  
_You really see me like that?_  
  
_I see you as you are... always have._  
  
He glances over at me, and for once, Ryan Stiles has been rendered completely speechless.  _Colin..._  is all he can get out. He rubs his eyes.   
  
_Forget about it,_  I think.  _I just... wanted you to know._  
  
He splashes me, then pokes me in the stomach.  _You never told me about your squishy marshmallow center._  
  
I blush, and can't think of anything to say, so I roll over in one quick motion and tug him underwater. His arms flail and he comes up spitting water. He looks like a drowned flamingo, and I laugh. He glares at me and dunks my head under.   
  
I kick him and he tries to swim away, but I grab his arm. He rotates his body every which way, trying to get me to let go, and when that doesn't work he splashes me right in the face. I pull him in closer, grab his other arm, and let out an evil cackle. All I need is a mustache to twirl and I'll be the perfect cartoon villain.   
  
He gives one last vicious twist and his skin is so slippery from the water that I can't hold on. He slides out from under me and swims off with one backwards glance. I paddle after him, wondering why he's heading back for shore instead of swimming out towards the middle.   
  
I catch up to him when the water's slightly above waist deep by leaping through the water and tackling him from behind. He grunts as my arms slide around his chest, but he doesn't even come close to going down. I groan in frustration, and he turns around. He doesn't make a move, he just stands there, staring down at me with a little smile playing on his lips.   
  
"Having fun?" he asks. He wrestles with me for a few minutes, and his body sliding over mine starts getting me excited again...   
  
He grabs my wrists and pulls me against him. My erection brushes against his leg, and he freezes. I gulp and try to back away, but he won't let me. When did Ryan get so strong? Or maybe I'm just not trying very hard. I don't know. All of a sudden I can't think, I can't move. And his eyes are dark, and it's like I've been swallowed by his smile...   
  
His hands drift to my hips, locking me right where I am. "Hmm... you  _are_  having fun," he whispers.  
  
He thrusts himself against me, and I gasp. Am I feeling what I think I'm feeling? "Ryan..." I say weakly.   
  
My body throbs with warmth and he's stroking my ass cheeks and then his fingers are traveling around to my front and I'm trembling as he touches me soft like feathers and he's hard next to my thigh and my balls tighten and then his lips crush mine and his tongue parts me and his eyes glitter and he's impossibly beautiful like morning light and the water's burning me and oh God Ryan I can't, we can't, Ryan... we can't...  
  
"We... can't," I manage to wrangle out of my dry throat.   
  
"Please... Colin... just for tonight... no one has to know..." he pants.   
  
I shake my head.  _But we'll know. And I don't want you just for tonight..._  
  
He pulls away, and it's like a bucketful of ice cubes has been poured all over both of us.  _I can't. We--_  
  
I touch his shoulder.  _I know. But we can't have it both ways. Sooner or later we'll have to choose._    
  
"Shit," he says, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hands like he's trying to rid himself of my taste...   
  
And then I am cold, and we both stumble out of the lake. Ryan starts building a fire, and he's shaking but I pretend like I don't see. I stare out over the lake and take deep, calming breaths. I know I did the right thing. This tension between Ryan and me, it's huge, and it's not just going to go away no matter how much I sometimes want it to.   
  
I meant what I said. I don't want him only for tonight. I know it won't be enough for both of us, and we'll fall again. It's not just us against the world anymore. There's Pat to consider, and Deb... I love Deb. He loves Pat. But we love each other too, and sometimes I think our love is too strong and it will end up tearing everything apart...   
  
He wraps a blanket around my shoulders and leads me over to the fire. I watch the flames leaping, and he hands me my clothes. He's already dressed. He looks so normal, even though he won't look me in the eye.   
  
I get dressed, and he stares at his feet the whole time. It's such a sharp contrast from earlier, when he couldn't take his eyes off me, and my heart breaks a little.   
  
He pokes a stick into the fire as I join him on his sleeping bag. "I'm sorry."   
  
"Don't," I say. I pat his knee, and he smiles at me. A small smile, layered with worry and confusion, but still a smile.   
  
"Are you...?" He trails off, and instead sends me an image of me huddled in a sleeping bag, alone on the other side of the fire. Far away from him.   
  
"What? No." I replace it with the two of us, right here, snuggled together like we should be.  _It's been too long..._    
  
He grins and eagerly pulls over the other sleeping bag and pillow. I vault over him and settle down on my back. He spreads the blankets over both of us.  _I wish we had your quilt..._    
  
It always amazes me what Ryan remembers. It seems I'm not the only one with a squishy marshmallow center. I think Ryan hides his deeper than mine, and his unexpected sweetness gets to me every time.   
  
Above us, the northern lights swirl, and Ryan's face breaks into the most beautiful smile.  _Just as you are,_  I think. His head leans against me as we watch the sky.


	12. For A Little While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deb wishes that Colin could be hers, even if only for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the twelfth story in The Extrasensory Series. It's rated PG again.
> 
> This is a Deb POV. 'Cause it's important for me to make the wives semi-sympathetic characters… *whispers* Even though Pat kinda annoys me… well, the way I've written her anyway. I don't know enough about her to make any kind of judgment on who she really is.

## Noon, 1986-1989:  
For A Little While

 

When he talks about you, his eyes light up. I remember the first time he mentioned you to me. He was sitting on the stage with his long legs kicking off the edge, reading what looked like a letter, and he had the dreamiest smile on his face. And I actually thought to myself, _There's a man in love…_ I asked him if it was from his girlfriend, and he shook his head and said no, it was from you.   
  
I should have known then, just from the way he sighed your name and traced the bit of loose-leaf paper with his fingers. Like it was something rare and precious that he wasn't sure he deserved. I should have known from the glowing tone he used as he told me all about you, a smile constantly hovering on his lips. He talked with me for almost twenty minutes, and his stories about you fascinated me and drew me in, making me wonder about you sight unseen. And when he dug your picture out of his wallet, it was faded and worn. When I look back at that day I realize that he didn't carry Pat's picture like that.   
  
I remarked on how warm and crinkly your eyes were, and he nodded and touched them with his fingertips like he wasn't even aware he was doing it. And when I said that I thought you were attractive, he paused and searched my face with such intensity that I leaned back from him for a moment. I wondered why his shoulders suddenly relaxed, why he let out a deep and shuddering breath. He gave a small nod, and I almost felt like he was approving me. Or even giving me permission.   
  
Every time he got another letter from you, he flagged me down to talk to me some more about you. When he told me that he missed you, his voice always trembled a bit. You were his best friend, he kept repeating, and I wondered to myself who he was trying to convince.  
  
By the time I finally met you, he gave off this air of desperation. You were everything he said you would be, and even that first night I fell in love with you a little. Okay, I admit I wanted you. You didn't even seem to realize how attractive you really were. And your talent… he wasn't kidding. You were phenomenal.   
  
The first time you kissed me, you pulled away and for a second I saw fear in your eyes before you smiled. I was too excited to notice at the time, too thrilled at the sensation of your lips on mine to see. It was only later, at my apartment, going over it in my mind that I realized what I had missed and I began to wonder...  
  
I wondered even more when I saw the two of you together. He always tried to steal you away, and you'd run off to have adventures with him at the blink of an eye, never thinking about leaving me behind. I don't think I ever saw you look happier than you did when he touched you casually on the shoulder or gave you a little one-armed hug. You'd lick it all up like a puppy, an adoring look on your face that almost mirrored the one on his own. As if the two of you were in your own world, and no one else could see what was inside. And I was standing just outside your circle, wanting desperately to be let in.   
  
One night I went to see one of your performances with him. I swear his eyes never left your face, even when you weren't speaking, and his smile... I had never seen him look with such concentration at anyone, including Pat. Afterwards I gave you flowers and you thanked me, your eyes sliding over to him. And then he was in your arms and the flowers lay forgotten on the prop table. You closed your eyes and he whispered in your ear, and when you laughed I felt like I was intruding on something I had no right to see.  
  
Sometimes he acts jealous of our relationship. In spite of myself it amuses me, the way he'll all but jump around screaming, "Look at me, look at me!" He always wants your attention to be on him. You get exasperated, but eventually give in. You told me once that you could never resist him.   
  
When we make love, you are passionate and considerate but I never feel like I have all of your heart. When I stay over at your apartment, you hold me in bed for a little while, and then you say you are too warm and turn away on your side. I always wish that just for once I could fall asleep in your arms. Sometimes you say his name in your sleep, and you look like you're reaching for someone who isn't there… I stroke your hair off your forehead and it's the only time you fully lean into my touch.   
  
I heard a noise in the hall one night. I opened my eyes and he was there at the edge of the bed, staring down at both of us. The room was dark, so I don't think he knew I was awake. He tiptoed around to your side, hesitatingly caressed your cheek once, and disappeared out the door. I stayed awake for a long time after that, wondering why I felt sorry for him. Why I felt sorry for you both.   
  
I don't know why I stay with you. It's obvious that you and he have this cosmic love affair going on. I don't know why you aren't together. Maybe it's none of my business. Sometimes I want to break it off with you just to stop the torture you're obviously putting yourself through. I don't know why you're fighting so hard against your feelings for him. I don't know why you insist that you love me.  
  
Maybe that's not fair. You do love me, I know that. You're not a deceptive man. It's one of the things I love most about you. And that's just it. I love you. I love you so much that I can put up with being second best, as long as you always come back to me. And you do. You are loyal in your obligation to me, and there are times when you look at me and I don't see the pull of him in your eyes. Sometimes I think that maybe it will be enough. It will have to be, if I want to keep you. And I do want to keep you. Even if it's only for a while, I can live with that.   
  
I wander through the backstage area, searching for you. I have something important to tell you. Everyone I talk to says they haven't seen you for at least a couple hours, but I somehow know you're still here. I begin peeking into dressing rooms, making my way down the hall.   
  
I stop short as I look through the last door. I know I should turn away, but I can't. I hover in the doorway, watching. He is sitting on the couch with you, and you're both fast asleep with your heads leaning together. His arm is curled around your shoulder, and yours is thrown across his chest.   
  
He stirs and opens his eyes. The tender look he gives you makes my breath catch in my throat. He reaches out and smooths the wisps of your hair back, and when your eyes open you give him a sleepy smile filled with love. "Hey, Ry," you say, only half awake.   
  
"Hey, Col," he says back, and his voice is soft and low and gentle in a way that I've never heard from him before.   
  
Your eyes slide out of focus again, and your fisted hand uncurls across his stomach. You blink and yawn and your head sags back against his shoulder. You let out a contented sigh, and he watches you for another moment, letting his feelings show clearly on his face because he thinks he is alone. His lips brush your forehead and you bury your face into his neck, breathing him in. His head settles against yours and he at last closes his eyes, secure in the knowledge that you are his and you always will be. His arm tightens around you, his other hand covers yours protectively, and then you're both lost in dreams.   
  
I wipe the tears out of my eyes, and my hand drifts to my belly, caressing what's growing there. That's what I wanted to tell you. "I'm pregnant," I whisper, and I realize that I am again on the outside looking in at the two of you.   
  
And even if it's only for a little while, I hope you'll stay.  **  
**


	13. Nightmare Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes flying in a plane for Ryan to realize what he should have known years ago…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the thirteenth story in The Extrasensory Series. The rating is PG-13.
> 
> This is a rather angsty Ryanfic. 'Cause I feel like I don't write enough about Ryan. I guess my Colin bias is showing. :) But Ryan needs a chance to shine too… 'sides, Colin loves him and that's good enough for me. :)
> 
> Also, I used "stewardess" in this 'cause this is set in 1989, and we weren't so P.C. back then. *hates P.C.-ness* By the way, something I've always wondered: If stewardesses are flight attendants, then shouldn't waitresses be table attendants? :D

## Noon, 1986-1989:  
Nightmare Days

 ***

 _Ryan… help!_  
  
Ryan shot up in bed for the third time that week, clutching his pillow. Pat never noticed a thing, like usual. Ryan sighed and wished for Colin's reassuring hugs. Colin was so good at comforting him that Ryan often didn't even remember waking up. He'd roll right over and go back to sleep, and Colin would tell him the next morning that he had a nightmare.   
  
The nightmare was always the same. He and Colin boarded a plane together and sat near the tail section. Ryan tried to get the stewardess to change their seats, because he knew what was coming, but she wouldn't. Ryan yelled at her and when that didn't work he begged her, but she merely looked at him and directed them to their seats, handing them complimentary bags of peanuts, as if that would make up for it.  
  
Ryan sat up straight, his hands gripping the armrests and his shoulders tensed, and Colin always tried to calm him down. He whispered and cajoled, but he always forgot. He always forgot what came next, even though Ryan had been dreaming this for as long as he'd known Colin. Why didn't he ever remember?   
  
The plane took off and things were normal for a while. Ryan almost felt himself settling down, thinking that maybe this time it would be different. Then the plane shook, and the yellow oxygen masks popped out of the overhead area. An explosion rocked the back of the plane, and Ryan's scream mixed with the voices of the other passengers as they thumped forward in their seats. He took Colin's hand, hoping if he held on tight enough, this time… This time Colin wouldn't…  
  
The tail section disintegrated all at once, and Colin lost his grip on Ryan. He was sucked up and out of the plane, and all the time he screamed for Ryan to help him… And Ryan could only sit, frozen in his seat, tears streaming down his face as he cried Colin's name...  
  
Was it any wonder he hated flying? Even if Colin wasn't on the plane with him, even if he knew that there was no possible way for him to be hurt, Ryan couldn't shake the images that the nightmare always left in his mind.   
  
His flight left at nine a.m. He was going out to visit the Second City at Los Angeles for a couple days, to see if he could possibly transfer down there at some point in the future. Ryan just prayed that he would make it there and back without looking like a fool.   
  
He decided that he didn't care what Pat said, he was taking a pill. It was the only way he'd be able to make it through the flight. 

 

***

_Ryan… please help!_

Ryan fell out of the unfamiliar bed and hit his head on the floor. He was actually grateful for the pain, because at least it meant that he was still alive. Even if Colin… Colin was… 

No. It was just a dream, he reminded himself. It wasn't real. Colin was probably fast asleep in his bed back in Toronto. Ryan had the irrational urge to call him, but he wouldn't. That would be too embarrassing. 

 _Colin,_  he thought in the direction of Toronto. He'd never tried to communicate with Colin from such a long distance before, and he wondered if he could. 

His brow furrowed with concentration as he sought out his friend. A hazy vision of Colin sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea and reading a paperback formed in his mind. His head ached, but he didn't mind. He pushed, and the image cleared. He recognized Colin's old chipped table, and Gary curled on one of the chairs. He smiled in spite of the ache filling him and reached for Colin, unaware that he was only touching empty space.

_Colin?_

Colin jumped and looked around.  _Ryan?_  he heard faintly. 

 _You're all right?_  

_I'm all right. Ry, where--_

The hurt throbbed high in his forehead and Ryan lost the connection. He sunk his head into his hands, silently screaming. A thin stream of blood trickled from his nose, but it was worth it. 

Colin was all right.

 

*** 

  
Ryan paled as the stewardess lingered by his seat. She was a pretty, young thing, nothing at all like the haggard old bitch in his nightmare with the complimentary peanut fixation. "Sir, are you okay?" she asked again.

Ryan lifted a shaking hand and wiped his sweaty face. He hadn't taken his pill this time around. He thought maybe he could handle flying without it, but how very wrong he'd turned out to be. All the same, he wanted to tell her he was fine, but he was preparing himself for the explosion and all he could stutter out this time was a small, "No." 

"Do you need me to get you something?" she asked, kneeling next to him. Ryan was grateful that the flight was fairly empty and there was no one seated near him to witness his extreme stupidity. 

"Just… could you…?" Ryan looked down, ashamed. "Your hand…" 

She smiled at him. "Of course," she said. She took Ryan's hand, and blinked in surprise when he squeezed a little too hard. 

"Sorry," he apologized. "For everything." 

"It's all right. Really. You're not the only one… so, what's your name?" she asked.

"Ryan."

"Hi, Ryan. I'm Amy."

They smiled at each other, and Ryan felt a little calmer. "Did you have a bad experience flying?" Amy asked. 

Ryan nodded. It was easier to let her think that than go into a big explanation. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back, shuddering and trying not to think of Colin... 

Amy patted his shoulder with her free hand. "You're all right," she said. "I'm good luck, you know. Never been in an accident yet." 

Ryan knew she was trying to make him feel better, so he bit back the snarky response that obviously she hadn't been in an accident, or she probably wouldn't be here right now. He wished for Colin, with his shy smile and his healing hands. Colin always knew what to say, what to do. 

He needed Colin.

No, he realized. It was more than that. What had Colin said, that night at the lake? Something about having to choose. Ryan hadn't wanted to think about it at the time. He thought maybe if he just ignored it, the problem would solve itself. But it only got bigger as he fell deeper for his best friend. And it seemed like the more he ran from it, the worse it got. 

Ryan was tired of fighting his attraction. He wanted to wake up every morning with Colin beside him. He had always wanted that. He didn't care what anybody thought anymore. He was almost thirty years old, and he didn't want to waste another ten years, too scared to make a move on the only person who completed him. 

He smiled as he let the full force of his feelings for Colin overtake him with their sweetness. Amy and the plane and his fears seemed far away. 

He chose Colin.  
  


***   
  


Ryan stumbled out of the taxi, gathered up his bags, tossed a bill he barely looked at to the cabbie, and sprinted up to Colin's apartment. "Colin!" he yelled, bursting through the door. 

"Ry?" Colin asked. Ryan grinned when he saw that his best friend was still sitting at the table with the same mug of tea and his book.

"Col…" Ryan breathed, dumping his bags in a heap by Colin's door. He crossed the room in several long strides and kneeled beside Colin, looking up into his eyes.

"Ry? What is it? I've been so worried about you," Colin said. "When you contacted me like that, I thought…" 

"Shh." Ryan brushed his thumb across Colin's lips, drinking in Colin's shiver. "Col, I…" 

He pulled Colin to his feet and put all the things he couldn't say into his kiss. All the things he should have said years ago. Colin moaned and tugged on his shirt, wanting him closer. His arms wrapped around Ryan's neck, and he tangled his hands in Ryan's curls, driving Ryan crazy.  _Ry… oh God, Ry…_  

 _Col,_  Ryan thought tenderly. He kissed Colin's eyes, his cheeks, his forehead. He rested his head against Colin's for a moment, and then leaned in for another kiss. A promise, one he couldn't wait to keep. 

Colin reluctantly drew away, and Ryan reached for him, wanting to pull him back where he belonged. "Ry," Colin said aloud. "I—"

Ryan knew what he wanted. "You want me to say it, huh? I can say it," he babbled, beaming down at Colin. God, he was so beautiful, with his hair all mussed up and his kiss swollen lips. Ryan could even forgive his dorky plaid bathrobe. 

Colin shook his head. "Ry, please listen, I—"

"I'm gonna say it!" Ryan insisted. He took a deep breath. "I want to be with you, Col. I don't want to hide anymore. I want…" He touched Colin's cheek. "I want you. You and me, it's the only thing that makes sense, and I can't… I can't live without you anymore." 

Colin bit his lip and Ryan wondered why he didn't look happier. "No," he whispered, looking down at the floor. "No."

Ryan tilted Colin's face up, and faltered when he saw the tears hanging in the corners of his eyes. "Col? What's wrong?"

The tears rolled down Colin's face. "I'm getting married," he said. "Deb's pregnant, and… I'm getting married. Next week."

"What?" Ryan said, his blood running cold. This had to be a joke. He couldn't lose Colin, not when he'd just found him. "No…" 

"I'm sorry," Colin muttered, the pain evident on his face. "But I can't… I can't just leave her. She needs me. She and the baby need me." 

Ryan buried his face in Colin's shoulder to muffle his sobs. "No," he repeated. 

They clutched at each other like two damned and drowning men, and both of them cried for what could have been. Ryan had never wished that he could go back and change everything more than he did right now. _So many regrets_ , he thought to himself. _So many regrets piled along the path that I chose._

He had waited too long, and now it was too late. 

 

 


	14. Just A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a dream... or at least that's what they have to tell themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourteenth story in The Extrasensory Series. The rating is NC-17. Sex scene, ahoy! :) Sorry for slacking on adding new parts... summers are always a busier time of year for me! I will try to do better, but we'll see. 
> 
> Oh yes, and it's a Colin POV. But the next one will be Ryan again.

## Noon, 1986-1989:  
Just A Dream

 ***

My hands move across Gary's velvet fur. Gary arches into my touch, purrs rippling underneath his skin. His paws tread in and out along my stomach, relaxing me. And I need the comfort. Tomorrow, I am getting married. 

"Good boy," I whisper as I close my eyes. I wonder who exactly I'm reassuring—me or Gary? "Good boy."   
  
Gary jumps down in the middle of headbutting me for more, which almost never happens when I'm petting him like this. Usually he settles against me and then I fall asleep to his fading purrs. I open my eyes, wondering what's going on.   
  
Ryan hunches over the bed, staring down at me. It's been years since he's come to me like this, and I don't know what to expect anymore. I blink at him, my heart pounding with hope and excitement, and he gives me a pleading smile. I sigh and turn down the covers on his side of the bed, and he immediately bounces in, shaking the bed in his enthusiasm to join me. And for a moment in the dark, I'm twenty years old again and nothing has changed. He's just my goofy best friend who I love in secret.   
  
We hug, and I choke back a sob, because this is the last time it will ever be like this between us and it hurts. I hide my head in his shoulder and he rubs my back. It feels like a goodbye, and I don't want to say goodbye. Not like this. I won't.   
  
"I was hoping you'd be alone tonight," he whispers.   
  
I pull back slightly, still close enough for his breath to warm my cheek. His eyes are soft in the corners when he smiles at me. I feel dizzy having him this near to me, near enough that I could get lost in him and never find my way out. Near enough for him to take me to the stars.   
  
"You're not here to change my mind, are you?" I ask jokingly.  
  
He laughs. "Maybe," he says, leaning his forehead against mine. His arms are tight around me and I can't breathe when he touches me but I love it all the same.   
  
I smile, but I can't speak. Our noses brush as he draws the covers around us. He lovingly wraps us both in my old quilt, the one that Deb is always begging me to throw out. He traces the pattern of stars and I know that I will never get rid of it, no matter how worn and frayed it gets. It still smells like the two of us, our scents mingled together so that I almost can't tell which is his and which is mine.   
  
"You should sleep," he says, slipping his arms back around me.   
  
I settle back against his chest. "I know, but I'm not—"   
  
"Shh… just close your eyes," he says. "Close your eyes and I'll be here when you wake up."  
  
His hand strokes my forearm and my eyes feel heavy. I want to fight it, because I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want our last night together to end. But I feel his heart beating under me, and the slow, even breathing of his chest, and I close my eyes and let the shadows steal me away to wherever we go when we dream...   
  


***

  
  
_Colin?_  
  
It's dark, like it always is in the beginning.  _Ryan?_  I ask, fumbling around.  _Where are you?_  
  
_Here,_  Ryan says, taking my hand.  _Fly with me, Col._  
  
We hurl through the black, and the stars are thick white lines smeared together across the sky. When we slow they become whirls dripped like paint across a cosmic canvas, and Ryan's free hand reaches towards them.  _Stars,_  he says in awe.   
  
_Stars,_  I agree, mesmerized by the starlight trailing from his fingertips. I have a crazy thought that tonight Ryan might be a star too.   
  
And then Ryan leads me through clouds of stardust and his golden hair shines like a halo all around him. We settle on the rings of a giant planet. Ryan's sneakered feet look bizarre dangling in deep space.   
  
His eyes slide over to me, and I can see the secrets of universes lurking in their depths. He runs a flirtatious hand up my leg, and I gasp.  _You know,_  he says seductively.  _I don't think it counts if it's in a dream…_    
  
_What doesn't count?_  I ask slowly, trying not to concentrate on the circles he's rubbing on my thigh and the effect he's already having on me.  
  
_Don't play innocent with me, Col. You know what I'm talking about._  He scoots closer to me, and his brilliance fills me with warmth and light.   
  
I sigh.  _I'm getting married tomorrow,_  I remind him.   
  
_You're not married now,_  Ryan says, and he blows in my ear.  
  
I yelp and try to scramble away.  _Well, no, but—_  
  
Ryan grabs onto my shoulders, holding me there. His voice burns with intensity, and the stars look brighter for a moment.  _Please, Col. Let me have this one night… it's just a dream anyway. Right?_  
  
I reach out and touch the sky, amazed when it ripples like liquid underneath my hand. I sigh and study him. I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong. I know there will be consequences, no matter what he says.   
  
But dammit, it's Ryan. It's Ryan and I love him and I can't say no when he pleads with me, especially when it's something I want too. I already stood up to him once, that night at the lake, and it nearly killed me. I don't think I can do it again. I don't think I can look at him again and say no and mean it.   
  
_Only if you'll promise me…_  
  
_Promise what?_  
  
I take a deep breath.  _That this is as far as it goes. That once it's over, once I'm married... we have to forget it, Ry._  
  
Ryan pauses, and I can see him thinking it over.  _Okay,_  he finally says.  _After tonight, I'll never mention it again. I promise._  
  
I'm not sure if I believe him. Not that I think Ryan would lie to me, at least not deliberately, but I don't think he realizes the scope of what's happening here. Besides, if I'm honest I want this just as much as he does. Maybe more. I've been waiting years for him to admit his feelings. I just wish…  
  
Well, it doesn't matter what I wish. We've got tonight, even if it's just a dream. And it will have to be enough. For both of us.  
  
I quirk my fingers and a cloud moves onto the rings. I touch it experimentally and marvel at how soft and fluffy it is.  _Come here,_  I say to Ryan.   
  
We both sink onto the cloud, and Ryan laughs when a bit of fuzz gets stuck on the end of his chin. I gaze at him, fascinated by the light bursting out of him with every breath. I wipe his chin and his eyes meet mine, and then my body feels like it's floating in space again, even though I haven't moved. And the planets surrounding us tilt towards us, and Ryan leans forward because all I can do is  _stare_ …  
  
I touch his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, and he grins.  _Taking charge this time?_    
  
I smirk and nod.  _Uh huh…_  
  
Ryan shrugs.  _All right,_  he says, and I know he likes the idea.   
  
I reach for the sunbeams highlighting his hair, and he tries to shift me closer. But I want to tease him a bit, so I take my time, working up my nerve. This is the first time I've kissed Ryan. All the other times, he's kissed me. And I want it to be good.   
  
I shyly kiss him, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. My stomach flipflops, and I pull away. He smiles patiently at me, and I duck my head, biting my lip to stop the grin that's fighting to spread over my face.   
  
He tips my chin up with his hand.  _You can do better than that._  
  
I lean in again, and this time I don't think so much about it. And my fingers fan through his hair, and he's soft and warm against me, and our lips become the center of time and space. All things flow from them. I'm aware of his hands, roaming up and down my back, making me shiver and burn all at once. And then he deepens our connection, letting me feel everything he's feeling, and it's… he…   
  
He loves me so much that it aches, and he's battling the urge to just throw me on my back and… well, he's not sure what exactly but he wants to make me feel good, he wants to listen to me moan his name, he wants to touch me everywhere with his lips and his mouth and his hands and his tongue… his tongue… he wants me to…   
  
I slide my tongue into his mouth, touching him tentatively. He startles and pulls back, chest heaving as he looks appraisingly at me. His eyes are now an entire collection of galaxies, green skies filled with infinite stars.   
  
_You're a great kisser, Col,_  he says.   
  
My face feels sunburned, and Ryan reaches out a quivering hand, brushing my cheeks.  _You're blushing…_    
  
I shake my head, in a kind of fog.  _I'm not blushing,_  I insist, but my denial makes me blush even more.  
  
Ryan snickers and gives me a fond look.  _Sweet, innocent Colin,_  he teases.   
  
I glare at him.  _Shut up._  
  
I grab him and kiss him ferociously, and he laughs into my mouth. Even though I know he's only kidding around, he knows how I feel about being called innocent. So I decide to show him just how innocent I really am...  
  
My hand travels down his front, stopping at his… at his… at  _him_. I rub him through his jeans, and the thrill races through both of us. I flash back to the lake, his underwater erection brushing my leg as he kissed me, and this time I hope I'll be able to see it instead of just feeling it…   
  
_Mmm,_  Ryan breathes as my shyness comes back and I pull away my hand.  _Maybe you aren't so innocent…_  
  
I tilt my head and smile widely, letting the dimples crease my cheeks. Ryan shakes his head at me and grins. He's not buying it. Not anymore. Not that he ever did… he knows me far too well to fall for my adorable routine.   
  
He leans into me.  _Fly with me,_  he says, and the words have a different meaning now.  
  
Ryan eases me back onto the cloud, tracing my jawline with his fingers.  _Rainbows,_  he says.   
  
And I gasp because I'm outside of my body, seeing myself the way he sees me right now, and rainbows of light drift across my face. And he's thinking of stained glass and stolen kisses, how he wishes he could go back and tell his younger self not to run away from the best thing that ever happened to him. How he wishes that he could take it back, take back everything… so he could have this all the time, with me. He wouldn't have to torment himself remembering rainbows and wishing…   
  
And then his lips are on mine and the stars spin above my head, making me dizzy with the feel of him until I close my eyes, but then the stars are  _inside_. And he's slowly undressing me down to my boxers, raining me with kisses everywhere he can reach. And my hands slide underneath his shirt, feeling his chest, and it's firm instead of soft like a woman's but when I pinch his nipples between my fingers he moans and nips at my neck and I realize that maybe men and women aren't that different after all.   
  
His shirt is gone and so are his jeans and I'm sucking his nipples and his fists are bunched in my hair, and when I raise my eyes his head is thrown back and it looks like he's screaming but no sound is coming out and all I can hear in my mind is him gasping my name…   
  
He's so beautiful and his skin feels so warm against mine that right then I want to run my fingers over every inch of his body. He pins me underneath him and grabs my wrists and it's rough and soft at the same time, and when he licks my navel I squirm and laugh and want more. He blows a raspberry into my stomach and I wiggle around, trying to free my hands so I can smack him, but he's strong, and he won't let go, and I'm forced to kick him as a last resort.   
  
He grins madly down at me.  _You're gonna pay for that…_  
  
_Can't wait,_  I breathe.   
  
He tickles me until I'm curled in a ball, hiding all of my sensitive spots from his fingers, but he doesn't like that. He unfolds me and stares down at me like he's drinking me in.   
  
I blush and look down and have the urge to cover myself up. My belly is a bit rounded, and I feel like I'm way too hairy everywhere except for my stupid head. I want to ask him why he's looking at me that way when I'm nothing special. He rubs my chest with his palms, smiling at me, reassuring me that he wants me… he wants this.  
  
_I think… we need to get rid of these…_  he says between kisses, his hands pulling at the edge of my shorts.  
  
The sky brightens when Ryan touches my hips.  _After you,_  I insist.   
  
Ryan gulps.  _We'll do it together._    
  
_Okay,_  I agree.  _On the count of three… one, two…_  
  
And then his hands slip inside my shorts, and he pulls them off, grinning devilishly at me. I gasp as the air hits my naked body and smack him, but I don't think he feels it because he's lost in some kind of fantasy that involves him covering me in syrup and tasting me… he doesn't even know that he's transmitting this to me until he looks over and sees my smirk.   
  
He has the decency to blush and while he's distracted I snap his waistband. And as he curses at me I yank off his shorts too. He slides off me, so he's lying beside me and I reach out my hand to cup his balls, rolling them thoughtfully between my fingers. He tilts his head back, and the muscles in his neck stretch with tension.  _Mmm…_  
  
I move my hand higher, a kind of elation filling me. His skin is surprisingly soft, and he arches up into my fist. But he's dry and for a moment I pause to wonder how he can stand the friction before it hits me that he needs something…  
  
Instinctively I stretch out my hand, and the clear liquid sky coats my fingers. I spread it all over his shaft.  _Colin,_  he hisses as I shyly run my thumb over his head.   
  
He shifts closer and when he puts his hand on me I almost lose it right there. He fingers my foreskin with a fascinated look on his face. I grin at him.  _Isn't that the niftiest little invention?_  
  
He nods slowly, never taking his eyes from me.  _Hey, Col… Hhw much would you pay for a foreskin like this one?_  he asks as he slides it up and down experimentally.   
  
I moan and struggle to keep my voice even as I say,  _Well, Ry, I'd pay upwards of nothing! With some complimentary air thrown in for good measure._  
  
He laughs and wraps his free arm around my back.  _Then you're in luck, my friend._  
  
_Yes… yes, I am,_  I tell him, looking into his eyes while I rub him.  _I'm very lucky indeed…_    
  
He growls and kisses me, sucking my lower lip and making me boil. And we stroke each other's erections, hands flying between us, and his head buries into my shoulder as he thrusts into my fist. I muffle my sighs in the crook of his neck, and the heat intensifies, swirling upward and outward and spreading all over my body, coating me like Ryan's syrup fantasy…   
  
_Colin,_  he thinks over and over again, gasping into my ear.  _I love you, Colin…_    
  
And when he comes, he flies with me, just like he promised. I raise my head to watch his face, which is still curled into my shoulder. His eyes are closed and his mouth is moving and I wipe his wet hair off his forehead while he screams and jerks upward.   
  
Above us a dark hole opens in the sky, and far away at the bottom I can see what looks like a tiny room filled with stained glass windows.  _Ryan,_  I mutter, and then I'm flying too, up into his hand, and the stars burn in a circle all around us.   
  
We fall backwards, panting, and Ryan has the silliest grin on his face. The hole is gone, and I wonder if I imagined it. He cuddles up against me, and when I look down at our intertwined bodies I swear we're glowing…   
  
_Sure you won't change your mind?_  he asks after a moment, face turned up to the sky.  
  
I shoot him a defeated look.  _Ry, I… I can't. And you promised, remember?_    
  
_I lied,_  he admits, even though I already knew.   
  
_It's just a dream,_  I tell him, and suddenly I hate myself.   
  
He glances at me, and I recoil from the hurt in his eyes.  _Yeah,_  he says shakily, pulling me into his arms for comfort.  _Just a dream._    
  
And how I wish it wasn't. 


	15. Secret Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin marries Deb, and Ryan can't help remembering their last night together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fifteenth story in The Extrasensory Series. The rating is PG-13, and it's another Ryan POV. 
> 
> I'm fudging with the timeline a little bit here, 'cause I think Luke wasn't actually born until 1990, and Colin and Deb were married in January of 1989. But this makes for a more compelling story, dammit. :)

##    
Noon, 1986-1989:  
Secret Promises  


  
I gazed down at my left hand, running my thumb over the tiny scar just above the knuckle on my ring finger. It was shaped like a star, and touching it made my chest ache with disappointment and regret.   
  
My best friend was getting married today. It was a plain courthouse ceremony, and Pat and I were the only two witnesses. Colin looked incredibly handsome in his dark suit and tie, and Deb wore a simple but elegant white dress. I insisted on standing just behind Deb with Pat, because I wanted to see Colin's face… I wanted to pretend that he was speaking to me, instead of to her.   
  
  
  
What if I marry you first?  _I whisper, taking his hand in mine. We're dressed again, but still sitting on the cloud, and I don't want to leave… not yet.  
  
He snorts, but at least he doesn't reject me further by dropping my hand. _That's not exactly legal…  
  
I'm not talking about the piece of paper. I'm talking about… I dunno, beyond that.  _I keep my eyes downcast, picking at a bit of lint on my sleeve.  
  
_ You mean something purer? Like, a bond? _  
  
I look up at him in surprise._ Yeah. Like that. _  
  
He doesn't say no. He doesn't say he can't. And I let myself hope…_  
  
  
  
The scar burned when the judge began the ceremony. Colin was solemn-faced, and he wouldn't look at me, but he touched a spot on his own ring finger every once in a while.   
  
Suddenly I flashed back to last night, the wonder in his eyes as he came. Electricity flowed down my spine just thinking about how he said my name, how he'd pushed into my hand. Afterwards he rested his head against my chest for a minute and I had been overcome with the desire to protect him for the rest of our lives. God, I loved him. And I wanted him. I wanted more than his hands on me. I wanted to him to taste me. And now he never would. But I could imagine it…  
  
Colin gasped, and shot me a dirty look, and I realized that I was transmitting again.  _If you don't quit it, I'm going to block you,_  he scolded, and I was pleased to see that he was blushing.   
  
I smirked, taking in his quick, shallow breaths.  _Sorry,_  I said, but I didn't really mean it.   
  
  
  
 _Would_  you marry me? I mean, if you could.  _I pretend like I'm not completely desperate for his answer._  
  
Ry, _he begins._ Deb… I mean… I couldn't…  
  
But what if this whole thing with Deb getting pregnant never happened? And I came over and told you how I felt… would you still have stayed with her?  _I know I'm pressing him, but I can't stop. I have to know.  
  
_ I would have… _He shudders, and I rub his shoulders._ I would have picked you. Are you happy now? _  
  
I beam for a moment, because I think I won. But then it hits me, and I frown._ No, _I say.  
  
And I realize that it doesn't do me any good to know. In fact, it might make things worse. If I hadn't waited so long… if I hadn't been so stupid, so damn blind, thinking I had all this time…  
  
He would have picked me. He could've been mine forever, instead of just one single night that might not even count._  
  
  
  
Colin's hands trembled as he took Deb's wedding ring from me. It was a traditional gold band, nothing fancy. He almost dropped it when my fingers brushed against his scar. He shot me a wild, scared look.   
  
 _Don't,_  he begged me.  _Please._  
  
Pat handed Deb her wedding ring, and I braced myself for the moment when they'd pledge their love to each other. My head felt like broken glass, and Colin looked steadily at Deb as if he wasn't even aware that I was there. The only thing betraying him was the sorrow I felt pouring from him into me. And when he slipped the ring onto her finger, hollowly repeating the judge's words, my scar blazed with such intensity that I staggered backwards, and he cried out in my head…   
  
  
  
 _A double ring of stars floats down, shrinking as they revolve closer. He smiles at me, and I drink it all up, letting the warmth fill me like moonbeams._ What are you doing?  
  
I don't know, _I say, and it's like I'm in a trance. I kiss his ring finger on his left hand, and he shivers.  
  
He brings his lips down to my own left hand, brushing them against my ring finger. Love spills out of me, and I wonder if I can touch it like I'm touching him, like he's touching me… and the love touches us both, coating us in endless light. Linking us together.   
  
_I'm yours, you're mine, _I say.  
  
_ You're mine, I'm yours, _he vows, looking into my eyes.  
  
We reach up as one person, into the sky, and slide the starry rings onto each other's fingers. They harden into silver bands carved into jagged stars, and then melt away, leaving behind only a star-shaped scar.   
  
We blink at each other, and I'm left wondering what the hell just happened. Our scars shine in the darkness, like secret promises waiting to be kept. _Someday, _I think again, like I did years ago.  
  
_ Someday, _he agrees this time, leaning his head against me._  
  
  
  
The judge pronounced Colin and Deb man and wife and I stood frozen in place until Pat nudged me. She was crying, and I thought that later I might cry too, for different reasons. But I managed to pull myself together enough to cross the room, to kiss Deb on the cheek and give her my congratulations. I told her to take care of him, be good to him, all that stuff that best friends say.   
  
Then Colin was in front of me, staring up at me with worry in his eyes. I pulled him into my arms one last time, clapped him on the back, and quickly let go. He furrowed his eyebrows, and I could tell he was a little upset with my lack of affection. Our hugs were usually long and lingering, with lots of contact, but today I couldn't give him what he wanted. It hurt too damn much.   
  
And besides, I had promised him I would forget once he was married. I meant to keep that promise, no matter how much it killed me. I would think of him strictly in the platonic sense from now on.   
  
"Congratulations, buddy," I said, forcing a grin onto my face.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered, but he was pale and his shoulders sagged. I pretended not to notice.   
  
Deb reached for Colin's hand, threading it with her own, and even though she was my friend I hated her a little. Their golden bands sparkled in the sunlight that drifted through the courthouse windows. "Thank you," she said to me, echoing Colin's words, and for a moment I thought she was thanking me for letting her have him.   
  
I decided to ask Pat to marry me after we got home. After all, we'd been dating for ten years. I guess I owed it to her. And besides, I didn't want to be alone anymore. I wanted to forget, to cover up that scar with a wedding ring of my own.   
  
I watched Colin twirl a laughing Deb around and realized he no longer needed me. I shoved my hands in my suit pockets, so I wouldn't have to look at my scar and remind myself what I had lost. 


	16. Celebrating the Years, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Ryan's 40th birthday today, and all of his friends and family gather to help him celebrate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of the sixteenth story in The Extrasensory Series. It's also the first story of The Evening Cycle, which will run from 1999-2004. This first story is set in 1999, but covers the years 1989-1998 in a series of flashbacks. 
> 
> Since this story is so long, I will be posting it in two parts. The next part should be going up within the next few days, so keep an eye out for it. :)
> 
> This particular story seems to make people cry, so just a warning. But I don't think it's that sad! *innocent look*

## Evening, 1999-2004:  
Celebrating the Years, Part I

  
  
All of the gifts are scattered across the floor like the aftermath of a great disaster. Ryan sits in the center of a large pile of torn paper and plastic bows, grinning broadly around the room at his gathered family and friends. He is forty years old today, but he certainly doesn't feel anything close to his age. He feels full of life, surrounded by his favorite people, on his favorite day.   
  
Amidst all the shouts and teasing about being over the hill, Ryan holds up the cane he received from Drew as a gag gift and shakes it at the crowd. "You'll be sorry!" he says, but his voice holds no bite and everybody laughs.   
  
Pat slips an affectionate arm around his waist, and Ryan kisses her cheek. They've been married almost ten years now, and loved each other for twenty. And when Ryan looks back and thinks at all that he's been through to get to this point, it still makes him gasp a little. His life certainly hasn't been dull, he reflects to himself.  
  
Ryan feels the ghost of a quiet touch, and smells baking bread, and that's how he knows that Colin is here, hiding in the outskirts of the circle. He cranes his neck, trying to see over everybody, and meets Colin's eyes for one heart-stopping moment.  
  
Colin fiddles with his wedding ring, and then Deb joins him and he turns away, sharing his smile with her instead. As it should be, Ryan scolds himself. She is his wife, after all. They've been married longer than he has.  
  
And they're happy. Just like he's happy…  
  
  
  
(1989:)  
  
_I stand shaking in the front of the church, and Pat floats towards me, her beaded white dress billowing all around her and her father on her arm. The church is elaborately done in flowers and lace and candles. And the tape on the loudspeaker blares an overly orchestrated version of "Here Comes the Bride" that makes me want to cover my ears. Her family went all out for this wedding, considering it was kind of short notice, but what the hell. They're paying, so I'm not complaining, even if I privately think it's a bit over the top.  
  
Something simpler might be nice, I think. The scent of the sea, wafting through wide open doors. Cherrywood pews and stained glass, and a lady at the piano playing a clean and easy classical piece I can almost hear if I close my eyes and listen hard enough. And rainbows, drifting over his face, making me want to touch them as he moves towards me, smiling only at me like he used to when I was sure he loved me…   
  
Colin stands behind me, my best man, and I know it's petty but I hope he's hurting. I hope he's hurting just as much as he hurt me, that day almost six months ago when he left me behind.   
  
And then Pat is in front of me and the priest is speaking and everything else falls away. I look into Pat's eyes and I think that maybe this is where I'm meant to be after all. Maybe I can forget, and be happy. With her. _  
  
  
  
  
Colin laces his fingers with Deb's as they stand in the back of Ryan's living room, watching another one of Ryan's famous birthday bashes. Colin shakes his head, stifling the laugh that wants to slip out as he spies Luke and Mac, eating heaping bowls of ice cream.   
  
Luke's bowl is already dripping strawberry down the sides, and Mac's lips are ringed with what looks like chocolate syrup. Their heads are bent over a pile of comic books, and Mac hasn't stopped talking yet. Luke just glances at her every once a while, quietly answering her questions, pointing out favorite characters and scenes. And Colin is filled with fatherly pride at what an amazing little person his son is turning out to be.   
  
"Can you believe he'll be ten soon?" he asks Deb, still watching his son.   
  
"No," Deb replies. "It seems unreal. You know, every year he ages, we age too."   
  
"Speak for yourself," Colin says with a teasing smile. "I'm holding steady at thirty five."   
  
Deb laughs and leans her head against his shoulder. "You wish," she says, shaking her head as she pokes him in the stomach.   
  
And Colin closes his eyes for a moment, remembering their first night together as a family…   
  
  
  
(1989:)  
  
_I tentatively open the door, not wanting to disturb her if she's sleeping. But her eyes are open and she's holding him cradled in her arms. My heart melts a bit as I count his little fingers and toes, making sure there are ten of each. He's red and wrinkly, and she's sweaty and exhausted, but to me they're both beautiful, and I tell them that with an earnestness that almost embarrasses me.  
  
I hold out the teddy bear that I picked out from the gift shop downstairs, and she smiles at me and thanks me. I set the bear on the table, along with a balloon that reads "It's A Boy!". And it's then it hits me that I have a son. I am a father. And oh God, I am so not prepared for this.   
  
And she says that he has my eyes, and I say that he has her nose, and I joke that I hope he won't have my hair. She snorts laughter, and asks, "Have you thought about a name?"   
  
We agreed to wait until we saw our son, before giving him a name. "Luke," I say immediately, and looking down into his tiny face, it feels right.   
  
"Luke," she says, testing it out. "I love it, Colin. And I love you."   
  
"I love you too," I reply, and tonight, I think I mean it with all of my heart._  
  
  
  
  
Ryan stretches and rises to his feet casually. Or at least, that's the look he's going for. "Where are you going, honey?" asks Pat.  
  
"Hmm?" he says, his eyes scanning the crowd. He pretends like he's not looking for Colin. "Oh, kitchen. I'm thirsty."  
  
"You could've said something," she says. "I would have been happy to get you a drink. It's your birthday."  
  
"I'm forty, not eighty," Ryan says, glaring at her. "Besides, I need a break."  
  
Pat bites her lips and sighs, folding her hands in her lap. "All right," she says in a small but dangerous voice, and Ryan knows that he will hear about this later.   
  
Because it's all about appearances in the Stiles household. He can just hear Pat asking him how will this look to the guests if Ryan disappears in the middle of his party? How will this reflect on Pat, on Mac and Sam? How can they convince the world what a happy family they are if Ryan isn't there? Because love and affection are only important if other people are around to see.   
  
But right now Ryan doesn't care, because one of his fingers aches in a way it hasn't in years and he can't breathe. He has to get out of this room, which feels too cramped and crowded, before he screams…   
  
  
  
  
(1990:)  
  
_The scar on my finger burns and nothing will soothe it today. One year ago I watched my best friend get married, after the most perfect night of my life. But I'm not supposed to think about that night, and I won't. I just… need time. I need time and I need this stupid fucking scar to stop hurting and leave me the hell alone.  
  
I wish I could afford laser surgery to get it hacked off. Maybe I will, someday. I don't need the same damn reminder every morning when I take off my wedding ring to jump in the shower. I don't need to stare at it while the hot water cascades down my back, remembering stars and sweet kisses and _ Colin _…  
  
He doesn't need me. He doesn't want me. He looks so damn happy every time I see him, he's practically bursting. He's always chirping away about Deb and what a fucking wonderful mother she is, and I hate him. I hate both of them.   
  
I'll tell you what I need. I need Pat. I want Pat. And every morning I put on my ring again, and I kiss her and I hold her and sometimes I make love to her if she wants it. Because I love her. She loves me. And we belong together.   
  
I don't want him. I don't need him. And I don't love him. He can just go to hell for all I care.   
  
But today, tracing my finger along that tiny white star… today, I'm not sure what I need.   
_  
  
  
  
  
Colin smiles at Deb, even though she's on the other side of the room, talking to one of their friends. He needs to smile, because if he doesn't he fears he will cry. Pain shoots through the ring finger on his left hand, and for a moment he thinks the metal of his wedding ring is melting…   
  
He's almost forgotten what it feels like, a sense of loss that rips up his arm and settles in his heart. It hasn't happened in God knows how long, and Colin wonders why it's starting now.   
  
He lifts up his ring, just a little, to touch the scar. It's barely visible in the dim living room, but Colin traces the familiar raised outlines, pointed along the edges. It's shaped perfectly into a star, and Colin is always taken aback and how something so beautiful can cause him so much pain.   
  
But then again, this star belongs to Ryan. And Ryan has always affected Colin that way…   
  
  
  
(1990:)  
  
_I bury my head into Ryan's chest, my arms wound around him so tight that he's gasping for breath, but I can't let go. I don't want to. My chest hitches and my eyes sting and for a moment I think I might cry, but I manage to get it under control.  
  
He still smells like pine trees and sand, and for a powerful moment I remember the first time I breathed him in, all those years ago. How old had I been? Twenty? God, it's been a long time since those days. And now we'll be apart, and my scar aches at the thought. I need Ryan like I need air and when he's not around I almost forget how to live.   
  
I want to beg him to take me with him. Forget Pat, forget my responsibilities to Deb and Luke. We'll go down to Los Angeles together and start over. It'll be like Vancouver all over again, just him and me against the world.   
  
Instead I rub his back and he curls into me, needing to be closer. _ Miss you already, Ry. _  
  
I feel his gasp against my temple, and I wonder to myself why he's so surprised. Doesn't he know? God, doesn't he know that this is killing me just as much as it's killing him? I just… can't let it show, because I have to be strong for my family. I have to smile for them. It's the only way I'll be able to get through this.   
  
_ Miss you already, Col. _  
  
And then he pulls away and rests his hand briefly on my cheek. But before I can blink, he's gone. I'm alone, and I cover my face and cry._  
  
  
  
  
Ryan retreats from the kitchen when he sees the small group of friends standing around the island, chatting away. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. He runs upstairs instead, and lets himself into his study. The scent of leather and books surrounds him as he crosses the room, comforting him.   
  
He sits at his desk and takes deep breaths until the shaking in his hands subsides. On the desk sits a stack of memorabilia that Ryan's been going through this week. He guesses turning forty has left him in a nostalgic mood, thinking of the past.   
  
He doesn't want anyone to know how sentimental he is. Pat never comes in his study, and he hides his keepsake boxes in the back of the closet, along with the scrapbook Colin gave him, fifteen years ago today.   
  
Fifteen years, God… Ryan almost chokes when he realizes it's been that long. He should have claimed Colin then, should have put aside all of his fears and doubts and just… gone for it, like he'd wanted to that night, outside his apartment with Colin, their foreheads resting together…   
  
He supposes that Colin's scrapbook is what started his fascination with saving things. He's always sort of wanted to repay the favor someday, for Colin. But he doesn't know how to begin, and he's not sure he can. He and Colin, they're different people now. Sure, they're best friends, always will be, but… the young man who never demanded anything but that he be who he was, who only wanted to be with him, Ryan thinks that man is gone, and he left a long time ago.   
  
On top of the pile is an old flier advertising auditions for a new kind of television show premiering in the U.K. Ryan reaches for it, smoothing out the edges.  _Whose Line_ , of course. Where it all began, and maybe where it will all end…   
  
  
  
(1991:)  
  
_"I don't want to look," Colin says, covering his eyes as he presses into my side. "I did horrible, I just know it."  
  
I allow myself to put my arm around him, drawing him closer against me. "Relax, Col," I breathe next to his ear, and I can feel his shoulders stiffen for a moment before he sags into me with a sigh. "If they don't want you, they're crazy." I can't resist smoothing his hair, marveling at the fine, soft texture all over again.   
  
Colin's eyes are closed, and he's pale and trembling beside me. I decide I can't take it anymore. I raise my eyes, tracing my finger down the single sheet of paper, and…   
  
"Oh," I say.   
  
My name is on the list, but Colin's isn't. He didn't make the cut. And suddenly I don't know what I am going to tell him._  
  
  
  
  
Colin startles when a Joni Mitchell song comes on the stereo. Joni's voice is high and clear above the noisy guests, but no one else pauses to listen. Not even Deb, who is hovering over Luke, wiping his strawberry ice cream-covered chin with a napkin.   
  
Luke squirms underneath her, shooting mortified glances at a giggling Mac. "Mom!" Colin can see him saying, even from clear across the room.   
  
Deb laughs and kisses Luke's forehead, which makes him turn almost as pink as the melting ice cream in front of him.   
  
As he listens to Joni sing, Colin wonders if his little family is enough for him. He wonders if he'll ever truly be able to forget Ryan. And he wonders if every struggle he's ever been through is worth it…  
  
  
  
(1991:)  
  
_"Joni? No, Colin, we can't! I love her!" Deb says, latching herself onto the CD.  
  
I sigh. My face feels tight and drawn, and my lungs pinch whenever I breathe. I hate this. I hate sitting at the kitchen table every week with a dwindling pile of CD's between us, figuring out which ones we're going to let go of next. And even more than that I hate living in Los Angeles. Why did we ever decide to leave Canada? It's the stupidest thing we've ever done.   
  
I look over at Luke, sitting in his high chair banging away with a spoon. He's screeching and smiling and having a great old time, completely oblivious to exactly how hard up his parents are. I just pray that it won't always be this way. I can't take too much more of this.   
  
"We have to," I say. "Luke needs more diapers."  
  
"So? We'll switch to cloth!" Deb exclaims, and she's only half kidding.   
  
I shake my head, wrinkling my nose at the thought. "And who is the one who usually changes him?"   
  
"You," she says in defeat. "But, Colin—Joni…"   
  
She whimpers as I slide the CD out of her fingers, and I'm shocked when I see a couple tears slipping down her cheeks. Deb rarely cries. I think I cry more than she does.   
  
"Shh," I say, giving her a hug. "We'll buy them back, someday. I promise you." _  
  
  
  
  
In his study, Ryan pulls out a drawer in his desk. He takes out a pile of pictures and rifles through them. On film, he is a smiling, happy, family man. Just as shiny as the surface of a photograph, and about as deep.   
  
Pictures of the wife, pictures of the kids. It all tells a mundane story, one like millions of others. The American Dream, he guesses some call it. Grow up, get a decent job, marry the girl, pop out a couple kids. Be successful. All Ryan's missing is the cat and the dog to round out his perfect life.   
  
All the same, Ryan wonders when his life got so predictable and boring. He remembers when life was exciting. When he could just take off with Colin and go on an adventure. With a fond smile, he thinks of the Dare game, which they haven't played in years. He wonders if Colin remembers.   
  
But Colin's mind is now filled with his wife and his son. Colin's the one with the perfect life, not him. And Ryan envies him so much he can almost taste it, bitter like old coffee.   
  
A photo slips out of the pile and lands on the floor. Ryan stoops to pick it up, grimacing a bit as his back sends up a protest. It's a picture of Mac, he realizes. Her second grade school photo. She beams brashly up at the camera, showing off a couple of missing teeth.  
  
She is truly his daughter in every sense of the word. And Ryan finds himself thinking that maybe it isn't so bad that his life isn't as new and thrilling as it once was…   
  
  
  
(1992:)  
  
_I've heard all the cheesy songs. Daddy's Little Girl and all that. I always thought it was just manufactured crap, designed to guilt you into not neglecting your daughter. I always thought I wanted sons, like any good father does. Boys, they make sense to me. You toss the ball a bit, you watch a little football on tv, you teach them to drive a stick.  
  
But girls… girls are a whole different story. Girls are complex creatures, whose emotions are like mazes that I've never quite been able to successfully navigate. You have to _ relate _to girls. You have to hold them and hug them and kiss them and tell them everything will be okay. You have to put up with tea parties and teddy bear parties and slumber parties. And then when they're older you get to be the one to scare away all the boys.  
  
All these things are running through my head as I stare down at my newborn daughter. Mackenzie was born three days ago, and this is her first night home. I almost don't want to touch her. Holding her tiny body in my arms makes me feel clumsy, like I'm going to break her if I move too much.   
  
She opens her eyes, and I swear they're focused right on me. I put my hand into her crib, and I almost pull it back when I see that my hand is nearly as big as she is. I don't want to hurt her or scare her. But she reaches out her hand, and fists it around my thumb, and that's it. I'm gone.  
  
I'd do anything for her. _  
  
  
  
  
Colin looks around. He is the only one off by himself, standing the corner. It's like high school all over again. He supposes he should be more social. After all, most of these people are his friends too. Some of them he's known for almost as long as he's known Ryan. Even Mike is here, flown in all the way from Vancouver.   
  
Somehow Colin can't make himself join in any conversations. He doesn't have the heart. Not tonight. Instead he takes his wallet out of his back pocket and rifles through it, trying to make it appear as if he's in the middle of something important. No one's paying any mind to him anyway, but just in case…  
  
Colin's heart leaps as he pulls out an old business card. Tony's Towing, it says on the front. Nothing special. For all he knows, Tony might not even be in the towing business anymore. This card is about seven years out of date.   
  
He turns over the back and looks at the familiar handwriting, the date and time that are almost etched into his memory…   
  
  
  
(1992:)  
  
_I sniff the air, and kick the stove when I realize that the corn muffins are burning. Luckily Luke is down for his nap, so he won't witness Daddy losing it. It's the last straw in another long and horrible day in Los Angeles.  
  
Deb is having big problems on the set of her television series. Rumors are circulating that the entire cast and crew may be fired at any given moment. I haven't even seen her since last night, since she's spending every waking hour on the set trying to straighten everything out.   
  
The rent is due, the unpaid bills are piling up, and we aren't sure if we'll have enough money for groceries this week. The CD's are long since sold, and we're running out of options.   
  
I stalk to the oven and throw the burned corn muffins into the garbage with a frustrated scream. A charred stench fills the air, and the oven is all black inside, and damn is that gonna be a bitch to clean. And suddenly I'm so overwhelmed that I feel like I am going to collapse and nothing will ever revive me.  
  
_ Hey, Col… _  
  
I turn around and Ryan is there. For a moment I wonder how he got in. Then I decide that I don't even care. I clutch onto him, and he blinks at me, and then he's holding me and I instantly feel better. He pats my back and I snivel a little bit, and it's pathetic and needy and I'm blushing just thinking about it, but I just can't hold it in anymore. It's too much.   
  
He clears his throat and straightens up and hands me a business card, his eyes twinkling. "Surprise," he says.  
  
I turn it over and there's a date and time scribbled on the back in Ryan's handwriting. "What's this?"   
  
"I got you another audition," he says, thrusting his hands in his pockets. I know he wants to touch me some more, but he won't let himself. "Don't blow it this time."   
  
I throw myself at him anyway, and he catches me like I knew he would. I'm laughing and I'm crying and I'm thinking how much I love this man for giving me a second chance that I'm not sure I deserve. _  
  
  
  
  
Ryan is surprised when he looks out the window. Night has fallen, and he can see the first of the evening stars shining in the sky. He smiles in spite of himself and reaches out to turn off his desk lamp. In the darkness the stars are bright and clear, and he gets up and crosses to the window to watch them twinkle and dance.   
  
He is glad he decided to have the party in Bellingham instead of at the house in Los Angeles. Pat had protested over the added time and expense, but he wouldn't back down, and finally she gave in.   
  
Ryan hates that he can't see the stars like this in Los Angeles. The smog and the lights of the city wash them out, making them pale and unimportant. In Bellingham, he can always see the sky.  
  
Some nights he sits outside on the lawn with a blanket and just watches, eyes filled with the kind of wonder that should have left a forty year old man like him long ago. Sometimes Mac and Sam join him, and he tells them the stories of the constellations as he points them out.   
  
The stars always remind him of Canada, of Colin, of home. And of a promise of dreams that may yet be fulfilled…  
  
  
  
(1993:)  
  
_I stand at the edge of our little home's back yard, face turned up to the sky. The air is balmy with moisture, but tonight there isn't too much smog, and I hope that I'll be able to catch a glimpse of their calming beauty.  
  
"Ryan? What on earth?" Pat calls, eyes wide as she crosses the lawn. "What are the neighbors going to say if they see you standing out here like this in your robe?"   
  
"They'll all be talking about what a hot husband you have," I say.   
  
"They will not!" Pat says, smacking me in the shoulder. But she's smiling and I think that maybe this time I'll be able to get away with it.   
  
"I just wanted to see," I say, and she begins tugging me back into the house. "I wanted to see if they were there."   
  
"The only stars in Los Angeles are the ones down in Hollywood," she says.   
  
"They might come out, someday," I say wistfully. And I know I will never stop looking. _  
  
  
  
  
Colin continues to watch Deb moving through the crowd, pausing to chat with friends or steal a bite off someone's plate. She truly is beautiful, he thinks to himself. A beautiful, tough woman, not delicate in the slightest. She can take it just as much as she can dish it out, and he loves her for it.   
  
She is affectionate and feminine and enjoys being held, but Colin has never felt like he has to protect her. She can take care of herself. In some ways she is the one who watches out for him.   
  
He's not sure how he feels about that. He knows all of the outdated stereotypes about men aren't necessarily true anymore. He knows that it's okay to let her stand on her own. In fact, he's glad of it, because he's not sure that he has the equipment to be that strong for someone else, however much he sometimes has to pretend that he is.   
  
Sometimes he thinks that it would be nice to be taken care of. To have someone to hold him and reassure him when things go wrong. It's hard for him to be the man that the world expects him to be, to deny that he worries and he frets and he sometimes wants someone else to come along and fix everything…  
  
  
  
(1993:)  
  
_I open my eyes in a flurry of arms and legs, gasping. I don't have nightmares very often, and this one is already starting to slip away, but the fear lingers behind. A hand makes its way into my hair, and I instantly turn around. Ryan is beside me, wrapped up under the covers. I wonder how long he's been there, and I wonder why I'm not more alarmed. We're sharing a hotel room tonight, because of some budget cuts on the set, and we started out the night in separate beds. I fell asleep with my back to him, because I knew if I looked at him I would call him over to join me and I couldn't do that anymore.  
  
I want to yell at him. I want to tell him to get out of my bed. I want to say that I'm married, and he's married too, and he promised. He's wincing, his shoulders hunched up near his ears, and I know that he's waiting for me to do it. And here's the thing. I can't, because I'm too weak. Because it feels too damn good, having him next to me. Because I need him.   
  
He smiles when he sees that I'm not going to kick him out, and I smile back. He scrunches himself closer and his arms steal around me, giving me much needed comfort.   
  
I rest my head in the familiar hollow of his chest and I think how incredible it is to have someone to protect me like this. Someone bigger who will take care of me, who will rub my back and rock me when I'm afraid. I feel the steady, soothing rhythm of his heart and I know that I'm safe.   
  
Ryan won't let anyone hurt me. And I close my eyes again and wish it could be this way all the time. _


	17. Celebrating the Years, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Ryan's 40th birthday today, and all of his friends and family gather to help him celebrate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of the sixteenth story in The Extrasensory Series. It's also the first story of The Evening Cycle, which will run from 1999-2004. This first story is set in 1999, but covers the years 1989-1998 in a series of flashbacks.
> 
> A month and change later, I finally add Part II of Celebrating the Years... I'm so sorry for not keeping up with this-- real life has been kicking my ass lately! But here ya go at last. Updates on this may be more sporadic for a while, but hopefully it won't be quite as long of a gap between parts this time.

## Evening, 1999-2004:  
Celebrating the Years, Part II

  
  
If Ryan watches the stars for too long, he aches with regret. It starts in his shoulders, and spreads to his chest, before landing in his stomach. And it always eats at him until he looks away.   
  
Even so, Ryan remains at the window, wanting to be as close as he can to those shining balls of light. He knows he will never reach them in this lifetime, and sometimes he's okay with that. This is his life now. He doesn't need stars and adventure and a great love by his side. He's forty years old. Maybe it's time to stop dreaming and settle down.   
  
Ryan steps away from the window and sits back down at his desk. After a few minutes spent brooding in the dark, he switches on the desk lamp. In the light, his study looks normal. The same books, the same pictures, the same bare spot on the desk where Ryan's laptop computer lived for two days before he returned it to the store.   
  
He reaches for the small slip of cardboard that's balancing on the edge of his desk and catches it just before it falls. He runs his fingers along the worn edges, reading the faded printing on the front. It's a hospital card, one of those signs they put on the front of the cribs in the nursery.   
  
_Sam_ …   
  
  
  
(1994:)  
  
_"All right, my little Macintosh?" I ask, hoisting two year old Mac in the air. She is clutching a scribbled picture and a wilting dandelion.  
  
Mac giggles and lays her head on my shoulder with an easy trust that warms my heart. She is light in my arms, and her blonde curls smell like fresh baby powder.   
  
"Let's go see your new little brother," I say, and we step up to the window.  
  
"Sam!" Mac exclaims.  
  
"Right," I say, smiling at her.   
  
She beams at me and gives me a wet kiss on the nose.   
  
I glance down the row of cribs, looking for the one that says "Stiles", and there he is. Samuel Stiles. He's wearing blue and he looks just as tiny as Mac once was.   
  
"Look," I say to Mac, holding her up to the glass so she can see. I point to Sam, who's waving his arms around and kicking his legs. "There's your brother. There's Sam. Show him your presents."   
  
Mac waves the picture in her chubby fist. She has it backwards, and I bite back a smile when I see she is eating the dandelion.   
  
"Sam!" Mac says again.   
  
"Sam," I agree._  
  
  
  
  
Colin crosses the room to get a cup of soda from the refreshment table. He marvels at the array of choices before he gets a hold of himself. It's funny that it takes something like a folding table full of drinks to convince him that he and Ryan are finally successful. Okay, maybe Ryan more so than him, but he's not exactly bad off either.   
  
He settles on orange, and pours it from the bottle. From the table, he can see into the foyer. Luke, Mac, and Sam are sliding on the tiled floor in socked feet, laughing and clearly having the time of their young lives.   
  
Colin debates with himself about whether he should go over there and tell them to knock if off, assert his place as the parental authority figure he's never quite felt comfortable with being. But he knows he won't, because he remembers doing the same thing when he was a child, with his younger siblings. And as soon as the offending adult went away, they just went right back to their game.   
  
Luke almost slips before he grabs onto Mac around the waist, and Mac grins at him and steadies him easily. The sight makes Colin smile and think of himself and Ryan. Sometimes he wishes he would've known Ryan since childhood.  
  
Luke takes Sam by both hands and spins him around. Sam giggles as he whirls through the air, and his feet almost hit one of Pat's very expensive crystal vases. Colin thinks that this time he probably should go over there and tell them to stop it. But before he can, Luke seems to realize he shouldn't be doing this inside, and he stops the game all on his own.   
  
Luke lets go, and Sam looks up at him with a kind of hero worship. "That was great!" Colin can hear him exclaim.   
  
And Colin can't blame him for thinking so…   
  
  
  
(1994:)  
  
_"Do it again, Daddy! Do it again!"  
  
My arms are tired and I'm feeling every bit of my thirty seven years on this planet. At times like these I wish I was a younger parent.   
  
"Please, Daddy? Do the spinny with me?"   
  
And Luke looks up at me with those big blue eyes, so much like his mother's, and I can't say no.   
  
I take his hands and whirl him around the backyard until the sky, the trees, the houses all run in together in infinite lines. And Luke is laughing, his curly brown hair flying behind him, making him look like a superhero in a comic book. I spin him until we're both dizzy, and we fall backwards onto the grass in a heap of father and son.   
  
Luke's little chest is heaving with effort and he gives me the sweetest smile I've ever seen. "I love you, Daddy," he says seriously.   
  
"I love you too, Luke," I say, and I give him a hug. My aching arms suddenly seem unimportant. _  
  
  
  
  
Ryan's back is starting to hurt from sitting at the desk too long. He decides to move to the small leather couch on the other end of the room. His body is so long that he can't quite stretch all the way out, but it's enough to relieve a bit of the pressure.   
  
He picks up the remote and turns on the tv, wondering idly what's on tonight. He rarely even has time to watch tv nowadays, with all the other things he has going on, and tonight it's a welcome distraction. It's his birthday. He should be allowed to indulge a little.   
  
He flips through the channels, amazed all over again at how much tv has changed since he was a kid. So many choices nowadays, he thinks to himself. And yet, there's often still nothing on that he particularly wants to see.   
  
On one of the syndicated channels, Ryan realizes they are playing a rerun of  _The Drew Carey Show_. He normally hates seeing himself on tv like this. He thinks he looks like a cartoon, all skinny arms and legs and his goofy nose sticking out. And the clothes they make him wear as Lewis always seem to hang off him. He is baffled over why he gets so many fan letters calling him "hot" and "sexy" and that's just the PG-rated ones. He honestly doesn't see it.   
  
But tonight isn't a normal night, because Ryan wants to watch the show. He smiles when Drew comes onto the screen. He'd probably never admit it out loud, but he privately thinks that Drew Carey is a remarkable man—driven and insightful and intelligent. He's also probably the most generous man Ryan's ever met.   
  
Drew just gives and gives and gives…  
  
  
  
(1995:)  
  
_It's my first day on the set of_ Drew Carey _and I have to admit I'm kind of overwhelmed. I know I've done tv work before, so I shouldn't be this nervous. But_ Whose Line _is easy, because it's improv, which I've been doing for fifteen years now. Scripted work is a whole different deal.  
  
All the same, I'm excited to start getting to know Lewis, my character. And Pat's thrilled too. She's already planning how she's going to spend all of my hard-earned money. Sometimes I wonder if that's the only reason she's with me. I'm just a walking wallet.   
  
"Hey, Ryan!" Drew runs to join me, clapping me on the back. "Let me show you to your dressing room."   
  
He walks me over to a door with "Ryan Stiles" stenciled on it. I grin. I could definitely get used to this.   
  
"Go on in, get settled, and I'll send someone by with your script in a few," Drew says.   
  
I turn to thank him but he's already halfway up the hall, so I enter the dressing room alone. On the make-up table is a large gift basket, filled with fruit and chocolate and all kinds of other goodies. I reach down to pluck the card off the front.   
  
"Ryan—good luck and welcome to the set! Really glad to have you aboard as Lewis. I hope we'll enjoy working together and getting to know each other. Sincerely, Drew."  
  
I smile and reach for an apple. I'm already starting to feel better about being here._  
  
  
  
  
Colin strolls through the den with his orange soda in his hand. The noise and chaos of the party is getting to him, and he needs some time to himself. He thinks that Ryan won't mind if he hangs out in the den for a little while to recharge.   
  
Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Ryan lately. Colin wonders where he disappeared to. He could probably find out, if he closes his eyes and concentrates. But he won't. Not yet.   
  
Colin lingers by the fireplace, looking at all of the pictures on top of the mantle. Pictures of Mac, of Sam… pictures of Ryan and Pat. Even pictures of all four of them, carefully and artfully posed in places like Disney World and the Eiffel Tower. Ryan's perfect, beautiful family, he thinks, a little enviously.   
  
The last photo on the mantle is of Ryan and Pat on their wedding day. Colin stares at the picture of Ryan, so handsome in his rented tuxedo. He is smiling, cheek to cheek with Pat, who is standing higher on the church steps to even out the height difference.   
  
And Colin thinks that one day he'd like to see Ryan in a tuxedo again…  
  
  
  
(1995:)  
  
_I'm standing at the sink washing dishes in our small house in Toronto, because Deb hates doing dishes. I'm already plotting how I'm going to buy her a new dishwasher for her birthday.  
  
I look out the window, and she is in the backyard with Luke, teaching him how to dance. She guides him through a simple box step, and Luke follows after her clumsily. She smiles and says something no doubt encouraging, and takes his hand, twirling him. I can see the light in Luke's eyes from here when she dips him backwards. And then she picks him up and hugs him close, swaying to imaginary music with him cradled in her arms.   
  
A hum fills the air and instead of seeing Deb, dancing with Luke, I see Ryan and me. Ryan's face has deeper crinkles than I'm used to seeing, and I'm almost completely bald, with just a ring of silvery white hair above my ears and around the back of my neck. We're both wearing tuxedos as we hurry towards what looks like a hall at a country club of some sort.   
  
It's evening and Ryan pauses, putting a hand on my arm. He points up at the sky, and a shooting star streaks through the darkness. He laughs and takes my hand, pulling me into an easy, comfortable dance.   
  
I lean my head on his shoulders, closing my eyes, running my hands up and down Ryan's back with a contentment that's too complete to be fake. And Ryan… Ryan's nuzzling against my cheek, sighing and looking like there's nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, wherever here is, dancing with me underneath the stars.   
  
I stare at Ryan's left hand, squinting at it to get a better look. There's something different about it. I move closer and realize he's wearing a silver ring carved into little clusters of stars. And when we revolve, I can see the matching one on my own left hand.   
  
I gasp and the images fade, leaving me elbow-deep in dish water while Deb and Luke continue to dance outside. But suddenly I can't concentrate.  
  
I wonder if what I just saw is real. Or if it will be, someday._  
  
  
  
  
On tv, the show breaks for a commercial. Ryan has almost forgotten how annoying commercials can be. And is it him, or are there a lot more of them since the last time he watched tv? Maybe it's just because the breaks are more frequent. He remembers when there was only one commercial break, in the middle of a half hour program. Now there's two or three.   
  
No wonder no one wants to watch network tv.   
  
A commercial for an airline company comes on, and Ryan flinches when he sees the fragile plane, cutting through the air. Friendly skies indeed, he thinks, shuddering a little.   
  
He vows that he will never fly again if he can help it…   
  
  
  
(1996:)  
  
_I'm trembling and sweating and the plane hasn't even taken off yet. Pat takes one look at me and shakes her head. I know she's embarrassed, and she thinks I'm causing a scene, but it's not as if I'm doing it on purpose.  
  
This time Colin is on the flight with me, and I just know that he's going to die. My nightmare is finally going to come true, and it'll be his own damn fault for not listening to me when I told him not to come with us on this vacation. Deb, Pat, Colin, and I are on our way to the Bahamas for a few days.   
  
Pat gets up, and I want to scream at her for abandoning me like this. I want to call her back, tell her who cares what people think? Your husband needs you right now. But all I can think of is the explosion and Colin getting swept out the back of the plane.  
  
But then Colin is beside me, holding my hand. _ You're such a wimp, you know that? _  
  
_ Bastard. _I give him a shaky smile and he squeezes my hand, but it's not enough. I need him closer. I wonder if anyone would object if he sat on my lap during takeoff? Seatbelts aren't that important.  
  
I lift up the armrest and settle against his side. He blinks in surprise and then his arms slip around me. Usually I'm the one holding him, giving him comfort, but today I'm glad for the shift.   
  
_ I'm here. I won't let anything happen, _he promises, massaging my shoulders.  
  
And I believe him._  
  
  
  
  
The den is a warm, cozy room, somewhere that Colin would feel comfortable putting his feet up. In fact, that idea sounds very inviting. He glances at the couch, with the flannel blanket draped over the back, and wonders how long he could get away with a nap before Deb or someone else discovered him…  
  
But he shouldn't. It's Ryan's birthday, a milestone birthday at that, and he doesn't want to miss it. Sleep isn't nearly important as his best friend, even if they still haven't talked face to face.   
  
Colin shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of apples and cinnamon. It reminds him of apple pie, which has always been his favorite dessert. He opens his eyes and looks around the den, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from. And then he spots it. A jar of potpourri sits on the end table, most likely Pat's idea. The rest of the den is largely masculine, and makes him think of Ryan.   
  
But then again, almost everything makes Colin think of Ryan…   
  
  
  
(1996:)  
  
_I take the apple pie out of the refrigerator, all set to cut it and start serving it up to the Stiles family, who are visiting for a few days. Someone sneaks up behind me and covers my eyes. I laugh as I feel the warm breath on the back of my neck, the gentle pressure of those large, strong hands touching my face….  
  
"Hey, Ry."  
  
"Shit!" he automatically swears in a low voice, so Pat won't hear and yell at him, even though everyone else is outside. "How did you know?"   
  
His arms slide down my waist, circling me from behind. I turn around and he's close, so close that I can see the flecks of light dancing in his eyes. "I just know," I say, and my voice is trembling because he's still holding me.   
  
He leans in for a second, sniffing over my shoulder. "Mmm, apple pie," he breathes, and I swear his grip on my waist tightens a little. "I love… apple pie."   
  
I gulp. "I love, umm… apple pie too," I stutter, laughing nervously.   
  
"Do you?" Ryan asks, and oh God, he's going to kiss me and I want him to…  
  
"Hey, honey!" Deb exclaims, walking into the kitchen. Ryan instantly drops me and steps away, and I turn around, making a jagged cut into the pie because my hands are shaking. "Where's the pie? We're starving!"   
  
And when I dare to look over my shoulder again, Ryan is gone. But maybe that's just as well._  
  
  
  
  
The final credits for  _Drew Carey_  roll, and Ryan switches off the tv. He doesn't want to watch anymore. He should probably head back downstairs. He's not sure how long he's been up here. He doesn't keep a clock in his study, because he doesn't usually want to know what time it is when he's here. Everywhere else he has to follow a schedule, hurry from one thing to the next, and he won't do it here.   
  
Then again, he doesn't want to leave quite yet. Something is telling him to stay, to wait a little longer. And he doesn't know why, but he trusts that voice. Perhaps because it sounds like  _Colin_ …  
  
Ryan opens the closet and drags one of his keepsake boxes over to the couch. It's labeled  _Whose Line U.K.: 1990-1997_  in Ryan's sloppy handwriting. But it doesn't matter if the writing is nearly illegible, because he's the only one who ever goes through these boxes, and he's memorized the contents of each one.   
  
He rummages through the box until he pulls out a bit of wax paper. Nothing remarkable, until he unfolds it and a white star-shaped flower falls out. He traces the delicate petals of the single orange blossom, which was flattened between the pages of a dictionary for a month to preserve it.   
  
His twentieth anniversary only comes around once, after all…   
  
  
  
(1997:)  
  
_He beams when he receives them. I know, because I'm hiding in the empty dressing room next to his, just to make sure I'm there to see his face.  
  
And the card… _ Happy anniversary, Col. I love you. _When he reads the card he clutches his chest and lets out a happy sigh.  
  
I pop out of the dressing room, anticipating a long, tight hug, maybe even a kiss on the cheek if I can get away with it. It's been twenty years since the day we met, and I'd been racking my brains trying to think of what I could get him. I decided to import this pot of orange blossoms all the way from Florida to the U.K. just for him, because of all the flowers they remind me the most of stars.   
  
I want to kick something when I realize he thinks _ Deb _sent him the flowers. And I want to kick_ him _when he starts yammering on about how sweet it was of her to think of him. And then I decide that while I'm at it I'll kick myself, for being stupid enough to not sign my name. To think he would just figure it out.  
  
Deb _ never _calls him Col. That's my special name for him. Only I can get away with using it. How can he be so dense?  
  
I try to tell him again. "Yeah, Col, listen—about the flowers—"  
  
"I know!" Colin interrupts. "Wasn't it nice of her? I mean, our anniversary isn't for a couple more weeks, but maybe she thought this way I'd be more surprised… I have to call her, Ry. What time is it over there? Oh hell, I don't care."  
  
Colin runs to the phone and begins dialing, before I can get a word in edgewise. "Hey, Deb. Sorry I missed you. Just calling to say I love the flowers," Colin says into the phone. "Thanks, and I love you too!"   
  
And I want to cry._    
  
  
  
  
Colin moves from the den back into the living room. The room isn't nearly as crowded as it was, and Colin thinks that some of the guests must have left. Either that, or they've moved elsewhere.   
  
In any case, he's free to wander through the living room, looking at the various pictures and decorations on the walls. He loves to visit other people's houses. He finds the way that they fix up their homes fascinating, because it gives a lot of insight into what types of things they enjoy, what kind of people they are, and how much they've learned to compromise on things.  
  
Pat likes flowers, frills, and lots of fragile glass or porcelain trinkets. She's always been that way, for as long as Colin has known her. And Ryan… Ryan likes leather, warm colors, and natural wood. Most of the house is heavily influenced by Pat. The den and Ryan's study are really the only two rooms that distinctly say  _Ryan_  to him. The rest of the house is a mishmash of Ryan and Pat's two clashing styles.   
  
Colin thinks, that if he ever shared a house with Ryan, their styles would mesh together a lot better. Colin loves classic style furniture, muted colors, and metals.  
  
He can picture what their home would look like. Hardwood floors covered with Oriental rugs. Leather couches, accented with lots of antique wooden furniture and soft, casual fabrics. The kitchen would be largely metal and industrial, with black, white, and red tiles to warm it up… perhaps Spanish tiles in the bathroom, and of course a bathtub with gleaming fixtures, big enough for two tall men to comfortably fit…  
  
Colin coughs and blushes, looking around guiltily as if there might be someone nearby who is reading his thoughts. He focuses on the wall in front of him, which is filled with Ryan and Pat's extensive CD collection.   
  
Their collection is almost as impressive as his and Deb's…   
  
  
  
(1997:)  
  
_It's her birthday, even though she told me she was finished celebrating birthdays. But she says that every year. "It's my last one," she always tells me. "After this, I'm done. I'm stopping the clock."  
  
They come anyway, no matter what she says. But even though she's turning forty three this year, to me she's just as lovely as she was when we first met. And I tell her that, and kiss her hand, much to Luke's embarrassment. It always makes him squirm when Mom and Dad get romantic.   
  
We're spending the evening together as a family, just the three of us, sitting together in the living room. Which is fine with me, since I'm not much of a party person. Large groups of people wear me out, so I'm grateful that she decided to go low-key with this one.   
  
I bring out the last present, and she pounces on it, giving me a goofy grin. "What's this?" she asks in mock surprise. "A gift? For moi?"  
  
"Just open it and quit with the theatrics," I tease, and she sticks out her tongue at me.   
  
She almost cries when she tears off the wrapping paper and sees the box set of Joni Mitchell CD's. "Joni," she whispers, giving me a quick but tender kiss. "Oh, sweetheart… you got me Joni."   
  
And Luke covers his eyes as Mom and Dad hug and kiss and whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears about how they're going to celebrate after he's in bed._    
  
  
  
  
Ryan needs a drink, something to help take the edge off his pain. He's not sure what it is that's bothering him. Could be his back. Could be the fact that he's now forty years old. Could be that he still hasn't spoken to Colin, and he doesn't even remember receiving a gift from him.   
  
His best friend forgot him. It's the only explanation. He's so distracted by his wife and his son, off in his little happily ever after world, that he's blind to how much Ryan needs him.   
  
Well, screw him, Ryan thinks, as he opens up his liquor cabinet. He pours himself some scotch and downs it in one gulp.   
  
Maybe he'll just forget the party and get drunk tonight…  
  
  
  
(1998:)  
  
_I storm out of the office, cursing Dan Patterson under my breath. That bastard wants to get rid of Colin if we bring_ Whose Line _to the U.S. Well, over my dead body that's going to happen. There's no way. We're a team, and I'm not working without him. Not on this show.  
  
Drew catches me by the arm. "Need a drink?"  
  
I nod, and he walks me over to his trailer. We drink beer after beer, and soon we're drunk. And I know it's unprofessional, but I just don't fucking care right now.   
  
I'm ranting about Mr. Dan Patterson, calling him every four letter word I can think of, and maybe even making a few up. How dare he? How dare he say Colin's too old, he's not appealing enough? Colin's… Colin's the best-looking guy on the show, even if he is starting to go bald. So what? He's… he's _ perfect _and he's talented and he has those heart-melting brown eyes that can make you do almost anything...  
  
"You sure fought hard for that guy," Drew remarks.   
  
I shrug and give him one of my famous stubborn looks. "He's good. He's good… and I love him, man. I love him," I repeat, my voice suddenly sober.   
  
Drew just stares at me, eyes wide behind his glasses, and doesn't say a word. And he knows that I mean it._  
  
  
  
  
Colin looks around the living room, and is startled when he realizes that Ryan is still missing in action. He walks into the kitchen, and Ryan isn't there. He considers asking Pat, but she looks a little pissed off, and Colin thinks it might be because she hasn't seen Ryan either.   
  
He closes his eyes, reaching out for Ryan. Leather, soft and smooth underneath him, and the musty scent of old books… Ryan is in his study, Colin is sure of it.  
  
Colin takes the stairs two at a time and runs down the hallway, because now that he knows where his friend is, he's eager to see him again. He bursts through the door to find Ryan, with a drink in his hands, and papers and photographs and boxes scattered all over the place.   
  
"Ry!" Colin says, rushing to his side.   
  
"Col?" Ryan turns, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. They wind their arms around each other, and then Ryan pulls away to ask, "How did you find me?"   
  
"I always know where you are," Colin says with a shy smile. He bites his lip. "So, umm… what is all this anyway?"  
  
Ryan sighs. "My life," he says.   
  
"I see," Colin replies, glancing at the impressive piles of memories.   
  
He secretly wishes that he could go through everything here with Ryan, see what kinds of things Ryan has deemed important enough to save like this. See if he has anything special that reminds him of Colin…   
  
"Look what I found though," Ryan says, taking Colin's hand and guiding him towards the desk.   
  
Colin gasps when he sees the adoption certificate from the Vancouver Animal Shelter, dated from 1981. "Oh… Gary," he sniffs, feeling tears prick at his eyes.  
  
"I loved that cat," Ryan says, squeezing Colin's hand. "It was like he was  _ours_ in a way."   
  
Gary  _was_  theirs, and he always would be…   
  
  


(1998:)  
  
_He's lying on the rug in the kitchen, and he hasn't moved in hours, because he can't seem to stand up anymore. His sides moving in and out with each breath are the only sign that he's still alive. Luke hovers around, asking me what's wrong with Gary, and I don't know what to tell him except the truth.  
  
"He's very sick," I say. "He's old, you know."  
  
Gary is almost seventeen now, ancient for a cat. He's been a good and faithful companion, my friend through a number of years and various moves. He's been to Vancouver and Toronto and Los Angeles, and then back to Toronto. My life has changed so much since that day at the animal shelter all those years ago, when Ryan bought him for me with money he really didn't have to spare.   
  
My life has changed, but Gary hasn't. And now, looking down at him, how small and fragile he seems. Nothing like the wild little kitten who pounced on things and was always underfoot. And I find that I don't want to say goodbye. It's like I'm losing that last little part of my life in Vancouver with Ryan, a time I'm already coming to think of as golden…   
  
I send Luke away, and Deb appears at my shoulder, telling me she's called the vet and they're waiting for me. She offers to come with me, but I decline, telling her it's something I have to do on my own. I have a feeling I'm going to come home alone.  
  
I pick him up, and his body feels like nothing, like he's already gone. He barely lifts his head, and he lets out one little pathetic "mew". Deb follows after me with a towel, and spreads it over the backseat of the car. And then I gently lay Gary on the towel, trying to make him as comfortable as I can.  
  
Normally Gary hates car rides. He yowls and he whines and is generally a pain in the ass. Not that I can blame him, when the only time he ever goes anywhere it's to the vet's office. I guess I'd freak out too.   
  
I climb into the backseat with Gary, and I touch his paws and stroke his fur… he's so thin I can feel his backbone underneath my hands, and his striped coat isn't as lustrous as it once was, but to me he's still the world's cutest cat and he always will be.   
  
"I love you," I say. "I love you, and you were a good cat. I'll miss you jumping on the bed at four a.m. demanding breakfast. I'm sorry for yelling at you sometimes when you got in my face when I was reading the paper in the morning. And I'll tell Ryan… you remember Ryan? I'll tell Ryan that you…"  
  
But I find that I can't continue, and I break down and sob._    
  
  
  
  
Ryan glances over at Colin, wondering what he's thinking about. A part of him wants to take all of his memorabilia and shove it back in the closet before Colin looks too closely at it. Another part of him desperately wants Colin to ask if he can stay and go through it with Ryan.   
  
Colin looks nervous. His face is pale—well, paler than usual anyway. He's shivering, even though the den is warm, and he's wearing a jacket besides. And he won't look Ryan in the eye.   
  
"Col?" Ryan asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You all right?"   
  
Colin jumps and turns. "Oh, hi," he says with a tight smile. He scratches the side of his head, blushing.   
  
"Hi," Ryan replies, and he almost wants to laugh. Colin's acting like a teenager on his first date. "So, what's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"  
  
Colin doesn't smile, and that's how Ryan knows this is serious. "Umm… I have… I have something for you," Colin whispers to the ground, shuffling his feet. "For your birthday. But… it's… I mean…"   
  
Ryan tilts Colin's chin, so he can see his face. "Let me see," Ryan breathes. "Please?"   
  
Colin nods and slides a small box out of his jacket pocket. He watches Ryan with anxious eyes as Ryan takes the box, turning it over in his hands. And Ryan wonders why his heart is speeding up, why he has the feeling that whatever's in this box is going to change his life…   
  
Colin covers his eyes as Ryan opens the box. It's a ring, a beautiful silver ring carved into bunches of little stars. "Col," Ryan says in awe, and Colin turns away with a squeak.   
  
"You don't have to wear it… I mean, not yet. I mean… umm, I don't know. I should… I should go," Colin babbles hysterically.   
  
Ryan snags him by the arm and pulls him back. "Col," he repeats, letting his tone convey everything he can't quite bring himself to say.   
  
Instead he embraces Colin, allowing himself to hold Colin for as long as he wants without anything pulling him away. Colin's shudders slowly subside, and warmth and light spread across Ryan's chest. He looks down at the man in his arms and smiles, his first genuine smile all day. And then they're hugging all over again and Ryan is lost, for a while, in dreams.   
  
In his closet is a box marked  _Future_. And one of the items sitting in that box is a nearly identical silver ring… 


End file.
